Play
by jespah
Summary: Play continued as Mack MacKenzie and her team toured a galaxy that was being, perhaps, threatened, by a strange phenomenon that seemed to come from outside of the universe.
1. 1-The Straight Arrow

Chapter 1 – The Straight Arrow

For Coach Misty Dana MacKenzie, things were going pretty well in 2379.

That is, if you didn't scratch below the surface.

She had a decent, albeit imperfect team of fifty persons of various species and body types and skill levels. She had an inner circle of four people who she already felt she could trust. She had family in the form of her second cousin, Martin Madden, who was the First Officer on the _Enterprise-E._ Mack had what seemed to be a boyfriend, one Major E. Kent Hoberman, who she had met when her team had played, and lost to his team, on Andoria. She even had another game lined up, on Tellar.

But beneath the surface, there were some cracks that threatened to damage the façade. Her ship was Gorn in design, with strange upgrades and modifications and half-finished inventions that no one seemed to be able to understand, not even her engineer. These upgrades included an ionization diffuser, an instrument that behaved a bit like a cloak and so was just barely on the right side of legality.

Her cousin, who she cared a great deal about, seemed to have gotten distant. Whether that was due to her new proto-relationship, or his less than idyllic working conditions, or his own loneliness, or something else, she did not know. She could not fathom it, although it did trouble her. He was all that she had.

Her people had their own issues, large and small. Andoria had been fun, almost a lark, as they kicked things off and had tried to settle together into behaving and feeling like a team. The Black Sheep were, more or less, united.

But Tellar, their next destination, felt tougher and heavier and harder. The sport was unknown, and they'd already experienced one loss. There was every possibility, with the next game being so unfamiliar, that they would lose another one.

Sitting at the Tactical Station on the Bridge of her ship, the Cookie, Mack frowned. "Are you all right, Dana?" asked the Daranaean Communications officer, a woman with fluffy white fur who was named Crita.

"Huh? Oh, just mulling."

The pilot, an Orion-Betazoid hybrid named Daniya, turned around briefly. "It's that guy."

"It is _**not**_ Hobie," Mack said, referring to her proto-boyfriend.

"Then what is it?" Crita asked. "We are a ways from Tellar, yes? It is just us here on the Bridge. I do hope you feel you can confide in us, Dana."

"It just feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders right now," their captain confessed. "It's nothing, really, more exciting than that."

"My door is always open," Daniya stated. "There's a small anomaly ahead; steering around it, and then I'll put us back on course."

"Uh, thanks," Mack replied, a little distractedly.

=/\=

On the _Enterprise-E_ _,_ things were considerably more formal. Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat in command, with Mack's cousin, Martin Madden, on duty as well. "Coming up on the Kreetassan System," announced the pilot.

"Acknowledged," Picard stated. "Kindly get the Kreetassan ambassador in communications. I shall take it in my Ready Room. Mister Madden, you have the Bridge."

"Yes, sir," Marty responded. Once the captain had gotten his call, Marty added, "Madden to Engineering."

"Go ahead," It was Lieutenant Commander Geordi LaForge.

"The captain's diplomatic mission is going to start with a reception here, so let's give him as smooth a ride as possible."

"Understood," LaForge replied. "I'll ask B-4 to begin passive scans of the area. We'll report on any minor anomalies in case they need to be avoided. LaForge out."

"Steady as she goes," Madden commanded. After the pilot had acknowledged the order, he surreptitiously tapped out a note on his PADD.

=/\=

On the _Cookie_ _,_ Mack got her note, and read it to herself.

 _Mystic,_

 _How go the wars? Let's catch up tonight._

 _– Marty_

She wrote back.

 _Straight Arrow,_

 _2200 hours – be there or rust. Go easy._

 _– The Black Sheep_

That had been their younger lives, their younger selves. He was seven years older than her, but they had still spent a lot of time together, still actively sought each other's company, even when he was a bookish teen and she was still a child learning her ABCs.

It was a secret language with them. Names, words, looks, colors, whatever – it was all a private duet of sorts.

She had always referred to him as the straight arrow, for he was overly studious and driven, determined to succeed. His dream was space – first Tactical, and then Operations. He had the makings of becoming an ideal captain.

He had called her the black sheep, or she called herself that, based upon her record of minor infractions, such as joyriding. Sports were her real love, and she discovered baseball at age five. Not softball, but baseball – the kind where being hit by a pitch can knock a grown man over, and wooden bats are splintered routinely. She was good enough to play professionally, and was the shortstop, and sometimes played second, for a perpetual cellar dweller, the Titan Bluebirds.

It all came crashing down in 2360. The team had been visiting Keto-Enol, a planet with a known drug problem but also the potential for significant and sustained merchandising opportunities. Even without money in the Federation, there were plenty of places that retained capitalist economies. Keto-Enol's retention of this type of grossly outmoded economy was likely a driver of its drug problem, in some ways.

While visiting an open air market, Mack was distracted, and an article was placed into her bag. The shopkeeper contacted the authorities when he saw that she had something. She had been framed, but not as a shoplifter.

Instead, the substance found in her bag was an illicit drug known as etrotherium. It was a substance more widely known by its street name – _fugu_ , which usually refers to a kind of sashimi made from Japanese puffer fish.

The street name was more or less accurate. Just like fugu, etrotherium required absolutely perfect preparation. Otherwise, it was fatal. It was an expensive high, and terribly addictive, sought after by the elite and near-elite of drug abusers on many worlds. And, once their financial resources dried up, and manufacturing cheaper versions became laxer, improperly prepared etrotherium was the way that many of them died. It was, in more ways than one, an expensive high.

Justice, such as it was, was swift and certain on Keto-Enol – even though it was far from just. The Enolian government wanted nothing more than to hold Mack up as an exemplar of the dangers of allowing other species onto their world. The Bluebirds organization, terrified of so much negative publicity, promptly dismissed their shortstop, the jailed Misty Dana MacKenzie.

Mack's parents sued for her back wages, but they did not live long enough to see justice truly served, either in that arena or in their daughter's criminal appeal. Instead, the pace was positively Dickensian, and she cooled her heels in Canamar for nineteen years, with no outside communications permitted, in either direction.

Upon her release, she learned of her parents' deaths, about a dozen years previously. Apart from their communications, and some missives from her overburdened and overmatched legal team, the sole correspondence she received was monthly notes from her second cousin, Martin Douglas Madden.

For Marty, the near-two decades-long hiatus had been a time to truly focus on his career, and he had risen to becoming the First Officer on the USS Talos. When the Enterprise-E's own First Officer, William T. Riker, had gotten his own command, and an android named Data had sacrificed his own existence, there was suddenly a job opening. He was transferred over as soon as the business with a Romulan sympathizer named Shinzon was over.

The _Enterprise_ was a big, well-appointed ship, and this was supposed to be a major step up in his career, but Marty did not get off on the right foot initially. Riker played a cruel prank on him, intimating a potential level of informality with Picard. None the wiser – and not knowing Riker at all – Marty tried that tack, committed to making everything perfect. It wasn't.

His confidence deflated, Marty retreated to quiet solitude, rarely socializing with any members of the crew. Reconnecting with Mystic – they called themselves the MDM Twins – gave him joy and a purpose. Permission was granted for him to become her business partner in owning the team, but not the Cookie, as its modifications skirted legality.

It was the only way he could be her partner. He knew the reasons all too well. When she had turned eighteen, he had quietly done some digging. But Federation law – intended to curtail the number of child brides expected in some of the newer member worlds – was crystal clear on the matter.

 _Second cousin marriages were strictly forbidden._

Lonely, frustrated and bored, and with a dented ego, he sought refuge in hard work, as he always had. His escape was, as always, to be the best.

He would forever be the _Straight Arrow._


	2. 2-Failures

Chapter 2 - Failures

Everything about wanting to give Captain Picard a smoother ride was a lie. The pilot knew this, or at least suspected it, but said nothing.

Well, technically, there was one thing that was true. There were scans being taken of Kreetassan space. But the search for anomalies had naught to do with the Enterprise's inevitable encounters with little space bumps and whatnot. Rather, it was being done in order to dovetail with extensive scans that had been taken during their previous mission, to the Denab System.

That system had never been explored by humans before. Yet Marty, working with Geordi LaForge, B-4 and an engineer borrowed from the Pathfinder project – Reginald Barclay – had discovered a most curious phenomenon.

All universes vibrate on a specific, set radiation band. The prime universe is vibrating on a 21 centimeter length. The Mirror Universe is at 20 centimeters. Other universes are technically possible. An earlier version of the Enterprise, the Enterprise-D, had learned this when their Lieutenant Worf had begun to phase into various parallel universes.

They knew about a phenomenon that was beginning to be referred to as a temporal interphase. LaForge himself had experienced one several years previously, with Wesley Crusher, the son of the Enterprise-E's doctor. Wesley was now a grown man, and was serving as the Chief Engineer on Mack's ship.

That temporal interphase had sent Geordi and Wesley to 1941. They had found a way to reinsert their shuttle into the anomaly that had brought them to 1941 Earth and that had been the end of that, or so Geordi had thought at the time. The origination point for that temporal interphase had been the Kreetassan System.

Due to some repetition in the radiation band cycling they had observed over at the Denab System, it was determined that the phenomenon was likely not a natural one. Made by some sort of intelligence _– maybe_ – there was every possibility that their motives were hostile ones. As a result, Marty and the others had been instructed to treat the matter as highly confidential. No sense in panicking anyone if it really did turn out to be nothing.

The confidentiality order had come down from Picard's own superior officer, Admiral Alynna Nechayev. Aside from the Admiralty level, the only people who knew about the strange phenomenon were Picard, Barclay, LaForge, B-4 and Marty.

Marty couldn't even tell Mack where he was; let alone what he was doing. That fact only added to his feelings of isolation. For many of his personal doubts, fears and worries, he could not confide in the one person he cared about the most.

The Kreetassan trade agreement was real, although it could have waited. But it represented a perfect opportunity to get close to an area of space that had experienced what they thought might have been a similar phenomenon, back when it had been experienced by Geordi and Wesley. The timetable for the trade agreement was moved up, and Captain Picard was placed in charge of it. Right under their noses, the sometimes uncooperative Kreetassans' own system was being carefully and systematically scanned.

=/\=

"Yes, Ambassador," Picard stated from his Ready Room, "we'll be sure to calibrate the spice mixture properly. My First Officer and I will be receiving you this evening. Picard out."

After a moment of tapping out notes, he looked up. "Computer," he commanded, "get me Admiral Nechayev on a secure channel."

 _Accomplished._

"Jean-Luc!" she said, "Are you in position?"

"Yes," the captain assured her. "We've just now started to take our scans."

"Good. Keep me informed. Oh, and Jean-Luc?"

"Yes?"

"Let me know how the negotiations go. If this area turns out to be the wellspring for this phenomenon, we'll need to return, and without so much of an elaborate ruse perpetrated."

"Acknowledged. Picard out."

=/\=

In her office, Admiral Nechayev initiated a message.

"Computer, top secret priority one message, written only. Use full anonymization. Send only through dummy channels."

 _Acknowledged. Recipient?_

"Operative code-named Radiant."

 _Acknowledged. Message contents?_

"Your position at the Tellar System will prove most fortunate. Commence passive scans upon arrival. Set scanners to interpret all chi spectrum radiation. Check for any patterning, and report using fully secure channels only. Your pretext, if you are discovered, will be that you are a science hobbyist. Further to this transmission, continue searching for the ionization diffuser on the," she snorted a little, as the absurd name always made her laugh, "Cookie. Report on all inventions and near-inventions of interest as well." She paused for a moment. "Computer, send message."

=/\=

On the _Cookie_ , as it made its way to Tellarite space, one of the persons on board received an anonymized message, and began setting up to take scans. And, once that task was completed, that person started to look for that ship's ionization diffuser.

=/\=

At the diplomatic reception, Marty stood with Captain Picard, awaiting their guest. A bit late, she finally strode in. "Ah, Ambassador Collif," greeted the captain, "May I present my First Officer, Martin Madden."

Collif, an imperious-looking older woman, just nodded. "A pleasure, madam," stated Marty. He felt a little stiff and uncomfortable in his full-dress uni.

"Shall we sit down?" Picard inquired.

The three of them sat. There were no refreshments, not even a pitcher of water with glasses, as Kreetassans found eating to be a private act on a par with sex.

"Why are you really here?" Collif inquired sharply.

"I beg your pardon?" Picard asked.

"You heard me. This trade agreement did not require an intervention by the flagship of the fleet!"

"These are our orders," Marty told her.

"You never question them?"

"When they seem morally or legally mistaken," the captain informed her, "then we do. In this situation, such was not the case. If you would prefer a different negotiating team, I am certain that that could be arranged."

"That's not the point," Collif insisted. "This is a relatively simple matter." She leaned over the table, getting into their personal spaces. "I suspect that there is some other reason you're here."

"Since this is, as you just now have declared, a simple matter," Picard countered, "then we can conclude our negotiations, sign the agreement, and be done with it. Then we will depart, as rapidly as we are able to do so. Would that be an acceptable course of action?"

The three of them sat and stared at each other. Marty was mindful that the time for his call with Mack was soon approaching. But he dared not open his mouth or get up or otherwise give away that he was in any sort of a hurry.

"I know you're keeping something from me," Collif finally commented, "But I also know there's nothing I can do about it right now. We'll sign the agreement today, this very minute, and without further ado. I have been so empowered by my government. Then, as you have offered, you will leave."

"Very well," replied Picard. He gestured to Marty. "Mister Madden?"

There was a separate PADD that only held the rather long and complex trade agreement. The intention had been for the negotiations to take weeks. But that had backfired, and the entire process had taken a mere few minutes.

Marty clicked on the PADD a little, in order to locate the signature page. "Here," he said, "if you'll just sign here … and here."

A few tracings on the screen, with a stylus, and the agreement was signed. Collif glared at both of them. "My people have never trusted the Federation. We joined because of our own interests. We do not seek your stated mission of galactic unity. Peace, yes, we all want it. But the idea of unification is misplaced. We will not lose our distinctive voice – you cannot force us. As for whatever this charade is all about, all I can tell you is that I'm onto you."

She got up. Picard and Madden did as well. "We thank you for coming," the captain stated. "I can understand your hesitation. If you would like, my First Officer and I can provide you with an extensive tour of our ship. Mister Madden in particular can answer any number of questions you might have."

Again, Marty kept his poker face. While he really would have preferred speaking with his cousin, he recognized what Picard was doing immediately. It was a stall tactic.

"There are all sorts of interesting details that went into this ship's construction," Marty added.

"No, I've seen quite enough," Collif replied brusquely. "Just get me to your transporter, and I will be on my way."

The three of them walked together. As they got Collif to the transporter, Picard added, "It was our pleasure to meet with you today. Perhaps a new day will dawn, on the relationship between our peoples."

"Enough of the flowery rhetoric," Collif snapped. "I'll take a copy of that agreement."

"Yes, yes, of course," Marty adjusted his PADD for the data transfer and clicked it next to hers. "All set."

There was a shimmer, and she was gone.

"Get to Engineering," Picard commanded. Marty nodded his acknowledgement and departed. The captain pressed on the communicator that was pinned to the front of his uniform tunic and announced, "The ambassador has departed, and we are finished with the negotiations. I shall be in my Ready Room for a while. Picard out."

In Engineering, Marty strode over to B-4 and Geordi. "It's done," he said by way of greeting. "We're leaving."

"What?" asked Geordi. "We've barely gotten started!"

"Change of plans," Marty told him. More quietly, he added, "I swear, we could've put just about anything into that trade agreement. She didn't even read it before signing it."

"So they must suspect something," the android concluded.

"Exactly," Marty confirmed. "The captain called her bluff, and it looks like our project got burned. Anyway, if there's anything you can get until we warp out of here, be quick about it."

"Right," Geordi agreed. "B-4, let's get a little more active with the scanning." He nodded as Marty left Engineering for the Bridge and to take command.

In his Ready Room, the captain put in a call to Admiral Nechayev. After the briefest of pleasantries had been exchanged, she asked, "What brings this call? Aren't you in the Kreetassan System?"

"There is something going on," Picard concluded. "Ambassador Collif called us out on our behaviors. She was too skeptical of our being there to negotiate the trade agreement at all. She signed the document, without so much as a cursory review of it, in order to get us out of there as quickly as possible."

"I see," the Admiral thought for a moment. "The Ceti Alpha System should not pose those sorts of issues. Go there and search for Augment activity. Let me know how it goes. Nechayev out."

Picard sat and stared at his fish tank for a moment. "I do hope," he said to no one, "that this pretext works a lot better than the previous one did."

Later, in his quarters for the evening, Marty pulled up a file on his PADD and read its contents aloud, even though he was alone. "Margot Adderley. Tonya Corrigan. Debra Dionne. Mary Lou Edson. Karen Elliott. Maureen Fallon. Gretchen Goldstein. Lisa Harris. Svetlana Ivanovich. L'Vira, house of Anttak. Patricia Nyqvist. Tamsin Porter. LaDonna Prentice. Miriski Shran. Brooklyn Sutton. T'Lo. T'San. Jhansu T'Therin. Matilli Vist. Nora Vogel. Martha Warren. Pamela Whitcomb. Adishi Wylie."

He sighed. "Twenty-three of you, eh? Twenty-three single women, of Ensign's rank or higher, on the _USS Talos_ _._ I don't work there anymore. There is no impediment to going out with any of you." He paused. "Except for the fact that I don't feel anything for any of you."

He scanned the names again. There was no one who would be a true companion, no one who would be fun and relaxed. No one he could really be himself with.

"Maybe being myself is overrated." He closed his eyes and pointed. Opening them, he tapped down where his finger had landed. His call was sent straight to the messaging system. "Yeah, Tamsin? This is Martin Madden. I was wondering, since you and I are no longer serving on the same ship, would you like to do something some time? I'm not sure when I can get leave next, but I want to, uh, get it out there that I'm, uh, interested. Thanks, bye."

Closing the connection, he sighed again, putting his head in his hands. "It's official. I hate my life."

=/\=

On the Cookie, Mack put in a call. "Martin Madden, on the _Enterprise_." The relayer connected them as soon as possible.

"Hey!" Marty smiled at her, but she didn't see it in his eyes.

"What's the matter?" she asked immediately.

"Nothing."

"Oh, c'mon, Straight Arrow, I always know when you're down."

"I am _fine."_

"All right," Mack sniffed, "if that's how you're gonna play it. Anyway," she told him, "we're off to Tellar, to play Kreesta."

"Have you ever played it before?"

"No, and the rules are pretty weird. Each team gets six players. You stand on opposite sides of a table. It's a kind of long table; apparently, they have special tables just for this called, not so imaginatively, Kreesta tables."

"What's the difference between that and a regular, plain old table?"

"There are these grooves cut on the top, near the edges. You'll see why in a moment."

"Uh, okay." He settled in. This was better, at least, than going over the hash he felt he'd made out of his life.

"You get a rack, a paddle and a plate. The racks fit upright into the grooves. Oh yeah, and in the middle of the table, there's a scale."

"A scale."

"Right," Mack continued, "So you've got your paddle in your dominant hand, and you start off with the rack in the slot. You take the plate and the paddle over to a side table."

"Is this some special kind of a table, too?"

"Not so far as I can tell. The side table, it's got various dishes. They are all required, and the recipes have to be followed perfectly. Before you can even start playing, the food's gotta pass a Kreesta tester."

"Of course." Now Marty was smiling more freely and naturally. "Do you serve yourself, or does the tester, or what?"

"I'm getting to that. So a bell rings in order to start play, and you take your plate over. In the first round, you fill it yourself. The plates all get weighed by a special Kreesta judge."

"Hence the scale."

"Hence the scale," she confirmed. "You get penalized if the plate doesn't weigh enough, but you don't get a bonus for having the heaviest plate. So it's better if you stay within the range and don't go over."

"Okay, then what?" he asked.

"A Kreesta ball is then tossed into the center of the table."

"By the tester?"

"No, a team wins a high/low number guessing game before play starts. I suppose a coin toss could work instead of that. Anyway, the ball is tossed. This is when the clock starts. While you're eating, you're supposed to hit the ball with the paddle. You bat it back and forth."

"What if the ball hits the scale? Or your food?"

"Almost there. If it knocks your rack over, you have to refill your plate, which gets weighed again."

"While the ball is flying around?"

"Yes." Mack confirmed.

"What if you're hit by the ball?"

"Just a sec. One of the objects of the game is to clean your plate, so if your rack gets knocked over, this is bad."

"Wouldn't a good strategy be to wait till an opponent was almost done before knocking over their rack?"

"Definitely," she agreed. "Now, a basket in the food means you, the batter, now you've gotta refill your plate."

"I see. Can you move your plate, in order to try to catch the ball?"

"Huh," Mack pondered that idea for a moment. "I'll have to check. As for hitting the scale, or if it hits someone on the other team, you lose control of the ball the first time. You do it any more times, you've gotta refill your plate."

"So I take it a point goes to whoever cleans their plate first?"

"Kind of. Knocking over a rack means a half a point. Plate-cleaning is two points. Being first to clean your plate brings in a ten-point bonus."

"You just go until the last person cleans their plate?"

"Hell, no!" Mack exclaimed. "There are eight courses. You finish up one, you just go onto the next one, which you have to get and weigh; all of that jazz."

"While the ball is still flying around?"

"Yup. You drop the ball or you knock it outta bounds, you lose a point the first time. Do it again, and guess what? You're refilling your plate."

"No wonder every Tellarite I've ever met has been fat, seeing as this is how they treat their athletes. Does the scoring change when the courses change?"

"I'll check."

"Can you knock over more than one rack during a course, Mystic?"

"You can, but you're also busy eating. I doubt most people would be able to do both that well."

"That's probably true," Marty allowed. "Mystic," he asked, "Are you having fun?"

"Funny, I was just asking myself that. Truth is, I am, but I'm also pretty damned tired. Plus this seems kinda daunting. Still, I think we can do it."

"At least there's that," he allowed.

"Huh?"

"Oh, never mind. Listen, Mystic, you keep having fun. I'd better head to bed. Big day tomorrow."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Travel."

"You're traveling right now. It doesn't tire you out. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Come on. Tell me," Mack demanded.

"Work is just, huh, some things aren't going so well," he admitted.

"You can't tell me. But it's more than that. I know you, Martin Douglas Madden. We may have not seen each other for going on twenty years, but I know you. I just, I get the feeling this isn't just some deal with work."

He sighed. "You're right; it's not. But y'know how you don't wanna talk about Canamar? Me, I kinda don't wanna talk about this."

"All right," Mack agreed slowly, seeming to accept that. "But you'll let me know if you change your mind, right?"

"Of course."

"You'll at least talk to someone _,_ even a little bit?" she inquired, genuinely concerned for his well-being.

"I … maybe _._ "

"You need a girlfriend," she concluded.

"Huh?" he laughed a little, trying to sound nonchalant, but she was right.

"You know, dinner, entertainment, and share your feelings, hanky panky," she smiled a little, "lather, rinse and repeat."

"Go to bed, Mystic."

She had crossed the line, and realized that. "Of course. I'm sorry; I shouldn't be flip about it." She peered more closely at him. "For what's it worth, I always, always want you to be okay, and I want you to be happy."

"I know," Marty whispered, "I want the same things for you, Mystic."

"This transition has been taking more of a bite out of you than you've been admitting, I think, Straight Arrow. Now, this is Dr. Black Sheep talking – take care of yourself. Be who you are. Which is wonderful, no matter what other nonsense may be going on."

"Thanks."

"We will be on Tellar for something like a month, it turns out. They want us to make a bunch of public appearances, interviews with the media, that sorta stuff. I know you can't say where you are, but if you can get here at all, well; you know how to reach me, okay?"

"Understood."

"Go easy, Marty."

"You, too, Mystic."


	3. 3-Picture This

Mack was up early the following morning. She laced up her sneakers and walked over to the perimeter running track. There was a canvas tarp laid out, with various colored paints and brushes. Crita was intently working, not hearing anything. Mack noticed a little green paint marring the white fur on the Daranaean's cheek. When the fluffy woman finally took her brush away from the wall, Mack cleared her throat.

"Oh!" Crita cried out. "You startled me! How long have you been standing there?"

"Less than a minute." Mack took a look at the painting. "Wes told me you were painting the Grand Canyon."

"Yes. It is most interesting. I love all of its shapes and curves and angles. I love the colors!" She peered at Mac. "How fast do you run?"

"I do two laps around the track for a 5K. These days, that takes me around forty-five, forty-eight minutes, something like that. I'm more of a sprinter. Uh, why do you ask?"

"It is – do you mind a surprise? I promise I will not neglect my regular duties."

"I didn't think you would. Uh, sure. You did a good job on the team logo, too. I wanted to make sure you knew that."

The tips of the canid's ears reddened a little. "I am happy to hear that. My family is considering traveling to Tellar while we are there. Is there any chance we would leave early? I don't want them to travel all that way for nothing."

"I think there's nothing to worry about there."

"Oh, goody!" She clapped her fluffy hands in delight. "You will meet my parents?"

"Uh, sure. Tell you what; I'll go work out in the holodeck while you're working on the mural, okay? So spread out as much as you'd like."

"Thank you; I will. Dana?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for making it easy for me to practice my art."

"Don't mention it."

=/\=

As the _Enterprise-E_ sped to the Ceti Alpha System, Marty, Geordi and B-4 pored over the meager data they had gotten from the Kreetassan System. "I think I know why," Marty opined after a while, "the Kreetassans don't trust us."

"Oh?" asked Geordi.

"It seems their first contact with humans went less than spectacularly. On the _NX-01_ , you know about Jonathan Archer?" Marty inquired.

"I passed first-year Civics, yes," Geordi joked. "Captain of the first Warp Five ship."

"Yes," Madden confirmed, "but he was also – well, in all fairness, I guess they all were – he was fumbling."

"Without deep space experience," B-4 stated, "such would be expected."

"Well, sure," Marty allowed, "but in the beginning, this guy would contact area ships for pretty much no reason. It was almost like he was a Jehovah's Witness in space."

Geordi laughed at that. "In Civics, they didn't quite put it that way. They said he had been an Eagle Scout, and he was just kinda putting it all into practice. He would stop people, and ask them if they needed help. Was there some specific thing with the Kreetassans?"

"You remember he had a dog?"

"Oh, yeah, named after, um, a character in _Treasure Island?"_ asked the engineer.

"No, it was one of the Three Musketeers," Marty clarified. "They went to some planet, and the guy takes the dog down with him. This is one of the first planets they went to. Well, the dog, being a dog, decides it's time to, ahem, mark some alien territory."

"Oh, no!" Geordi laughed some more.

"Oh, yes! Of course it turns out to be some sacred tree. Well, the dog gets sick somehow, probably from some microbe or other in the air of that planet. Keep in mind, this is before transporter filters, that sort of thing. So the poor thing almost dies. Because he needs some part or another and can't get it elsewhere, Archer's gotta go down and apologize, as it turns out the Kreetassans owned that planet. They make him slice up the tree."

"Okay, so the guy made kindling," Geordi joked.

"Yep, and he got his part, whatever it was," Marty added, "but they found it weird and, well, here we are."

"Perhaps," B-4 opined, "there is another reason." The android stared intently at a display.

"What have you found?" Geordi inquired.

"Here," B-4 added another layer to the readout by making a few adjustments.

"What kind of adjustment did you just make?" Marty asked, looking over their shoulders.

"I added a dark matter discriminator," explained B-4. "This area, in particular, is showing at least a portion of the patterning that we observed in the Denab System."

"Portion?" Marty inquired.

"Yes," Geordi explained, "it looks like our detection of the pattern was interrupted when we warped out of there in a hurry. So," he rubbed his chin in thought, "if this patterning is here, maybe it's in the old Delphic Expanse as well."

"Possibly," the android allowed.

"Didn't you have a strange experience in the Kreetassan System several years ago?" Marty asked.

"Uh, huh," Geordi confirmed. "It was 2366. And, ha! That's it!" The android and Marty looked at the engineer in particular puzzlement. Geordi clarified. "We were on one of the older shuttles. I can't recall which one, but I can look that up easily enough. Then we can look at its old sensor logs! We might actually have something!"

"We might even get a better handle on the age of the phenomenon," Marty agreed.

"Now, after the destruction of the _Enterprise-D_ ," B-4 interjected, "records may be sparse, or partially compromised, particularly for a shuttle."

"It's still worth a shot," Geordi declared.

"Agreed," added Marty.

=/\=

Finished with running, Mack grabbed a quick shower. Stopping to look at her own naked self in a mirror, she frowned. "Oh yeah," she sighed, "I am real and this is real and I was really at Canamar for almost two decades."

Her breasts were uneven, and covered with irregular scars and gouges. "This one," she ran a finger along a deep, jagged scar, "is from Krosh. Before Anchel."

She looked again. "Nope, not gonna fix this, not yet." There was a communications chime. She tossed on a tank top with a built-in shelf bra and clicked on a flashing icon on her desktop unit.

"Hi, Dana." The fellow with the military bearing and the less than military beard smiled at her from across the light years. Hobie.

"Hiya, Kent, what's the good news?"

"I just wanted to see how you were. And, um, I wanted to let you know, I heard there was some sort of a game that was gonna be played on Tellar. Now, I cannot attend, unfortunately. This is much to my chagrin. But I am going to be getting a tape of the broadcast. In fact, I'm going to subscribe to that channel. Would you know anything at all about that channel?"

"It just so happens that I do know," Mack grinned, "but I warn you – I understand Kreesta is pretty damned messy. But, uh, thanks. You'll be _Subscriber Number Two."_

"Oh, and who's _Number One?"_ he asked.

"My cousin."

"I see. Well, I look forward to seeing you in your jersey and, uh, Dana?"

"Hmm?"

"I hope I can see you out of it some time."

"Just, uh, not, you know," she vaguely gestured at her own breasts. They had slept together, and a lot of cards had been laid out on the table, but she had not allowed him to see any of her scarring.

"Got it. You take care. Hoberman out."

=/\=

Geordi LaForge and B-4 worked together, in Engineering. "Computer," Geordi commanded, "access all shuttle information available from the _Enterprise-D._ Locate all data from 2366."

 _Records are available, but they are incomplete._

"Access any records of – no, scratch that. Name all shuttles where any records at all are available."

There was a pause as the computer compiled the data.

 _Records are available for the following shuttles: the Amazon, the Avon, the Mekong, the Monongahela, the Neva, the Nile, the Platte, the Seine, and the Shawmut._

"Okay, that didn't help much," Geordi stated.

The android stated, "I do not understand."

"I can't quite recall which shuttle Wes and I were on in 2366. See, we were sent back in time by what I recall looked a bit like the remnants of an old pulse shot."

"A pulsed beam of light, akin to a cross between a photo torpedo and a phaser that may be adjusted to various centimeter lengths?"

"That's the one. Huh. Computer, narrow the search to reports of anomalies encountered by anyone on any of these shuttles."

 _Reports of anomalies are available regarding the Avon, the Mekong, the Monongahela, the Neva and the Seine._

"Computer," Geordi commanded, "narrow the search parameters to only reports about pulse shots or suspected pulse shots."

 _Reports of anomalies are available regarding the Mekong, the Monongahela, and the Neva._

"That didn't help much. Narrow it down to only reports mentioning either myself or Wesley Crusher."

 _There are reports available regarding the Mekong and the Monongahela._

"I'll take the _Mekong_ if you'll take the _Monongahela,"_ Geordi offered.

"Very well," B-4 replied. "What, precisely, would I be looking for?"

"Within the parameters, well, it would be anything about Wesley Crusher or me. It'll probably reference our presence in Kreetassan space at about the time we were kicked back in time."

"How did you return?" the android inquired, his fingers flying over a keyboard.

"I remember the shuttle was damaged, so we landed on Earth. We were there for a few days." He paused to input a query into the system. "We got back by, if I'm remembering it right, angling directly into what looked like the aftermath of a pulse shot. I'm thinking we were in the Asteroid Belt for cover, but I can't be sure."

"Was the year that you went to, was in 1941, by chance?"

"Yes! That's it! _"_ Geordi was excited.

"It appears that the aftermath of a pulse shot in the vicinity of the Kreetassan System created a sort of subspace vortex. Your shuttle," B-4 read off a screen, "the _Monongahela,_ was sent back over four hundred years, to 1941. As you had stated, the shuttle was damaged, necessitating an emergency landing on Earth. A few days later, after repairs were effected, you flew into the Asteroid Belt. You were correct – it was for cover – and you located another wave of energy that you suspected was the same phenomenon. You angled the shuttle into the path of the wave and emerged back in 2366, albeit a few days after your initial disappearance."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I can tell. The phenomenon seemed to have dissipated, but that was never actually proven."

"Computer," Geordi asked, "locate any reports of escalated energy wave phenomena for the last thirteen years."

 _Working. Compiling will take approximately one hour._

"All right," Geordi replied. He looked at the time on his PADD. "Let's make it a lunch meeting." He tapped the communicator on his uniform tunic. "LaForge to Madden."

"Yes?"

"We've got something. Let's talk over lunch in Ten Forward."

"What about our restrictions?" Marty was mindful that the matter was considered highly confidential.

"We'll talk in generalities if we have to. I think we can. LaForge out."

The three of them sat in Ten Forward together. Guinan, the El-Aurian proprietress, came over. "Commander, I'm glad you brought your friends."

"Uh, yeah," Marty smiled a little to himself. B-4 and Geordi were colleagues and acquaintances, he felt. He only reserved the title of _friend_ for one person – _Misty Dana MacKenzie._

"Are you a regular here?" asked Geordi. "How come I never see you?"

"I –"

"Commander Madden here," Guinan explained, "keeps somewhat irregular hours. Drinks, gentlemen?"

As she departed, Geordi offered, "We play poker on Saturday nights. You're welcome to join us. Both of you are, really."

"Thanks," Marty replied softly, "I, uh, maybe I'll take you up on it some time. Right now, I'm still, uh, getting everything in order." He paused. "Well?"

"Yes," Geordi replied, shaking off the feeling that Madden seemed depressed. "We found some activity from 2366. It was a confirmation of something Wesley Crusher and I experienced."

"Oh?" asked Madden as Guinan returned with drinks.

"Rosemary Parker," she stated, and left.

"Who is that?" B-4 inquired.

"Who was _,_ that is," Geordi clarified.

"From 1941, right?" Marty prompted.

Geordi nodded, smiling a little. "She, uh, after 1941, all I know is that there was a woman named Rosemary Parker Warren who was arrested in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1964. She gave her profession as schoolteacher."

It did not escape Marty's notice that Geordi was able to recite these facts from memory. "I'm, uh, I'm glad she could help you get back here."

"Yeah," Geordi replied wistfully, "it was a long, long time ago." He was quiet for a moment.

"Your findings?" Marty asked after a while.

"Yes, sorry, I'm not getting to the point at all, it seems. See, the kick back in 2366 was due to the remnants of a pulse shot. You know what those are, right?"

"I do," Marty replied, "my degree is dual – in both Operations and Tactical. I hadn't quite made up my mind when I graduated."

"Got it," replied Geordi. "So this pulse shot, first it was," someone was walking too close to their table, so he got vaguer, "uh, near where we've been."

"Right," Marty noted.

"Then in 1941, for us it was a few days later, and it was in the Asteroid Belt in the Sol System. At least, Wes and I thought it was the same pulse shot."

B-4 could see that Guinan was busy. "I shall obtain your meals for you," he stated. He got up before they could say anything.

"Y'know," Geordi changed the subject briefly, "he's the successor to Data. He looks just like him, of course. But it's funny, it's times like this that I remember that he's different. I confess I've sometimes had to restrain myself from calling him Data."

"Long as you don't call me Riker _,_ " Marty muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, nothing. Look, if this is a pulse shot," he added the android delivered their meals, "do we know who's experimenting with them these days?"

"Well, there's a part of the mystery. Federation law doesn't require anyone to report on such things."

"Right, but given our recent reception," Marty opined, "maybe there's a connection all the same."

"Perhaps," stated B-4, "but consequence does not prove causality – and neither does proximity."

=/\=

Mack gathered her athletes together as her inner circle ran the ship and Daniya held command. "Tomorrow," Mack stated, "I'd like to get started on us practicing Kreesta."

There was a lot of groaning. The only human member of the team, Tag Shaw, stated, "It just doesn't feel like a sport, y'know? There's almost nothing physical going on."

"Look," Mack pointed out, "it's not always going to be ice hockey and fun. It'll sometimes be, well, like this _._ But it's a paying gig so we've gotta do it _._ And," she glanced around at all of them, "there's a good week or so of promos that goes along with it."

"Would we need to tell everyone how much we, ugh, enjoyed the Kreesta dishes?" asked M'Belle, a Caitian team member.

"I have no idea," replied Mack, "but let's, you know, let's try _,_ all right?"

=/\=

In his quarters that evening, Marty left a message for Mack.

 _Heading out, not too far from where you'll be, I think. Let's see if we can get together._

 _MDM Twins forever_

He then switched off his PADD, barely missing a message. It was not a return message. Or, rather, it wasn't a response to what he'd just sent. Instead, it was a different sort of reply.

 _I had no idea that you were interested! See, I've been interested for quite a while. Let's catch up soon. I'm really looking forward to this._

 _'_ _Til then,_

 _Tamsin Porter_


	4. 4-Off The Charts

For Mack and her team, the following morning's meeting was an effort to put a positive spin on a less than favorable situation. The athletes all sat on chairs in the Observation Lounge as, again, the inner circle ran the ship, and this time Wes held command. Mack had eight dishes in front of her on a table. "What I have here," she announced, "are the eight standard Kreesta dishes. Ours are replicated, but when we play, someone will actually cook them. Now, you were all asked to skip breakfast. These are going to be breakfast."

There were grumbles. "I know it's not gourmet fare. But you've got to at least know what this stuff tastes like, so you can eliminate surprise as an issue. So! The first dish," she took the lid off what looked like inky black lettuce, "is tevori. It is vegan, so everyone can have some. Now, since not all of the other dishes are vegan, I don't expect T'Val here and the other Vulcans to actually play Kreesta. But I still want you here, for team solidarity if for no other reason. Plus we'll be in press interviews and that sort of thing. If you can at least identify the Kreesta dishes, it'll go far in terms of our demonstrating good will. Form a line, okay? C'mon, it's gonna be okay."

The Imvari, Grosk, got in line first. "It appears very black. Is that fresh and safe to consume?"

"Actually," Mack explained as she served, "it's fermented. It's a little like a human dish called kimchee; if you've ever had that." Once everyone had been served, Mack explained, "Right now, we'll just taste everything. We won't go for speed today. Just, try it."

As the various members of the team tried the dish, she took notes. Most of the team members seemed pleasantly surprised. They had clearly been expecting something awful. A Calafan team member, Yi'imspi, commented, "It would be all right, I think, except it is very sour."

"It's replicated to specifications," Mack explained, "so expect it to taste this way when we play for real. Let's try the next course."

This time, Tag got up to help. "I don't mind serving," he declared. "What's this stuff called?"

"Nachem," Mack read off her PADD. "This one is definitely not vegan." The Vulcans sat down, a bit relieved, it seemed, that they would not have to partake in it. It was green and seemed rather fuzzy.

"What is this nachem?" asked Xochar'inif, a Jem'Hadar athlete who was fighting hard to kick his built-in addiction to ketrecel white. Everyone called him Xo.

"Nachem is in nachem," Mack stated tautologically. "It's, uh, it's a small animal on Tellar. It's cleaned and cooked whole."

"So the fluffy parts?" inquired Tag.

"It's a mammal," Mack explained, "so it's got fur."

"Green fur?" inquired an Andorian member of the team, Trechek.

"It apparently turns green during the cooking process," reported a Tandaran team member, Dathan, as he consulted a PADD.

"It's dry," complained Cilla, a Klingon woman. She threw down her bowl in disgust. "This is not what we eat."

"It isn't what any of us eat," M'Belle stated. "I kinda like it. It's better after how sour tevori was." There were some murmurs of agreement.

"There's the spirit," Mack encouraged, "Now, let's taste the next dish," she removed a lid from the next pot, "burkoo leaf."

This dish they were a bit more eager to sample. There were general sounds of praise. "Now, this I could eat," Grosk declared, "it's sweet."

"Ready for the fourth course?" Mack inquired. This time, the dish seemed to be a form of baked meat. "This is thofen. It's stewed in, um, its own juices."

Noses of every description were wrinkled as the athletes continued sampling the strange and often none too tasty fare.

While Marty was getting ready for work that same morning, he did not turn on his PADD until the last minute. He saw the message from Tamsin. "Huh, well," he said aloud to no one, "I had no idea there was any sort of an attraction." He thumbed through the images of his former crewmates on the Talos until he found hers.

She had darkish brown hair, a little darker than pecan. Her eyes more or less matched her hair. Her face was not unpleasant or asymmetrical. Her figure was of a moderate size and shape if a little on the scrawny side. She was easily a good two decades younger than he. In short, there was nothing other than youth distinguishing Ensign Tamsin Porter whatsoever.

He tapped out a quick reply.

If you can tell me, where will your ship be in the next few weeks? I'm under a highly confidential order, but if I'm close, there's no reason I can't see you.

He stared at the screen for a moment. "Listen," he addressed the device, "I don't want to cause you any pain. So this is probably an incredibly stupid idea. But my life, it is official, completely and utterly stinks. I hope yours doesn't become contaminated by association."

Shaking his head and, against his better judgment, he hit send and then rushed to the Bridge, as he was in danger of being late for his shift.

"Okay," Mack said, "this is the last of the eight dishes! You all made it this far."

"That davur," Tag stated, "it was really salty."

"Not to worry," Mack tried to appear enthused, but even her spirit was flagging, "this last one is a form of stew. It's called perolin and it is made from everything else that you've already had." As before, they lined up, except for the Vulcans, as the dish was not vegan.

There was silence as everyone chewed. "Combined, they're not so bad," observed a Denobulan athlete, Effenston.

"I'm just glad it's a little wet," Tag stated. There were sounds of agreement from the others.

"Good," Mack commented after a while. "Now, today, we won't do anything else with Kreesta. You can eat whatever you want. But give a thought to it, all right? Not everyone will play, of course, but we'll need to work together, in order to determine who'll be the best at it. And," she added, "Like I mentioned before, everybody will be subject to interviews and the press. There's a short course on dealing with the press. You can view it on your PADD. I expect everyone to take it. So, today, everyone but the Vulcans should eat light and get in a good workout because tomorrow we'll try for speed. Thank you."

As they left, M'Belle commented, "I wonder how anyone can play Kreesta. It seems such an odd choice for a sport."

"My understanding is that it commemorates some feast or another, sometime in Tellarite history. I'm sure they'll give us the full story, and probably without a lotta prompting." Mack chuckled a little at that.

"Do you think the interviews will be broadcast outside of Tellar?"

"I guess so. Why do you ask?" Mack inquired.

"I was thinking of Crita. Before we go to sleep at night, she often tells me of her home. Her parents have her under a great deal of pressure to marry. I wonder what even a small measure of fame will do in that regard."

"Who knows? But you're a good roommate to her, and an even better friend, to be so concerned. I think Daranaean society is more than a little overwhelmed by the rest of us in the Federation. I suspect we seem rather too liberal to them."

"I don't wish to speak ill of them," M'Belle clarified, "but Crita tells me she is made to feel as if being and staying single is the most dreadful thing! I know her rights at home are limited. Sometimes it can be difficult not to say anything."

"Well, you know, infinite diversity and all that," Mack quipped. "She likes it here. I think she'll do everything in her power to stick around, at least for a while."

"I hope you are correct."

On the Bridge of the Enterprise-E, Marty held command as Captain Picard retreated to his Ready Room. "Computer," Picard commanded, "create a file called Radiation Band Cycling Phenomenon. Take dictation."

Ready

"At this point, as we approach what was once referred to as the Delphic Expanse, I find myself wondering about the phenomenon we have been studying. Here are the facts, as I know and understand them."

He paused for a moment to sip from a mug of Earl Grey tea that was on his desk. "First, there is the matter of the radiation band cycling itself. Mister Madden opines that it might be some sort of Tactical testing. We are aware of multiple universes, and so it begs the question whether one universe – say, the twelve centimeter radiation band, just to toss out a figure indiscriminately – is checking all possible universes for either a means of ingress or for suitability and compatibility for survival or conquest or perhaps some combination thereof. Or there could be a peaceful reason. We simply don't know."

He paused to collect his thoughts. "There is also the matter of this occurring in at least three places that we know of. There is the Denab System, the Kreetassan System, and we will confirm whether the old Expanse can be included within the group. A further question is whether there are more such locales. From the other side's perspective, do they truly represent three separate locations? Or do they seem, to the other side, to be one and the same? Our space, after all, is not folded in these areas. Perhaps theirs is."

He stopped to admire his fish tank briefly. "Then there is the matter of what Mister LaForge is referring to as a pulse shot. He had the computers search on such a phenomenon for the past two decades, but that search came up empty. He is now engaging the computers regarding any references at all to these pulse shots. My next suggestion to him is to check all references to the twenty centimeter radiation band, which we refer to in the vernacular as the Mirror Universe."

Picard sipped his tea. "So far as I can tell as of this moment, this is not a natural phenomenon at all. To my mind, that begs all sorts of questions, including whether it is possible that we could even, somehow, be provoking these possible attempted incursions. As of now, I cannot say, of course, but that possible theory should be entertained until it can conclusively be ruled out."

He stared into space briefly. "I feel that we are doing all we can in order to investigate this matter. Yet I continue to have the nagging suspicion that something is being missed. I am not in the habit of continually doubting my actions – certainly not in the utter absence of cause. But something feels … off. I hope that we can get to the bottom of this matter expeditiously. Computer, end dictation. Store the file under my authorization only. Picard delta 74."

As Geordi LaForge investigated, and B-4 went over the data they had already collected from the Denab and Kreetassan Systems, Marty held the Bridge. There was a communications chime. It was confidential, for the captain.

"Captain Picard!" Collif was furious.

"Yes, Ambassador?"

"Don't you yes Ambassador me! We have radiation readings off the charts in our system! It has all rather interestingly occurred right after your ship's departure."

"I can have my Chief Engineer investigate, and determine whether the Enterprise has leakage of some form or another," he offered.

"No," she said, "it is not that. It is more that you knew something was going on. What is it?"

Mack retreated from the others, in order to retake command and allow the athletes to complete the short course in how to deal with the press. She paused for a moment at the site of the ship's ionization diffuser. There was a joystick control for it, and she patted it absently. "You're all dressed up, with nowhere to go, eh?"

She did not see anyone in the area, but there was someone there, who remained hidden and silent, not moving until after she had left.

"Ambassador, I assure you …."

"Captain Picard!" Collif fairly well yelled at him. "My government is demanding to know this! And, frankly, so am I!" She looked at him intently. "Well?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss any of our internal plans," he said flatly.

"But Captain –"

"If you have any objections regarding my or my ship's behavior in this matter, I hereby invite you to take the matter up with my superior officer, Admiral Alynna Nechayev."

"Perhaps I will. Collif out," she huffed.

He walked back to the Bridge. "Mister Madden, you're with me for the moment." Marty got up and followed the captain into his Ready Room. Once the door had been shut, the captain tapped his communicator badge. "Picard to B-4, Picard to LaForge. Get to secure locations and acknowledge, as per high confidentiality requirements." Once the connections were established, he explained, "There is most definitely something happening in Kreetassan space. Their representative has told me that they have radiation readings that, according to her parlance, are off the charts."

"Is it cycling?" inquired the engineer.

"I don't know. She was not exactly forthcoming with more than the most basic information. The matter has been passed up the chain of command, to Admiral Nechayev. My guess is that we could very well find ourselves a bit stalled. Or, if we receive permission from the Kreetassan government, we may even return there. It is within the realm of possibility, gentlemen."


	5. 5-Spam

A less than pleased Tellarite's face was not the best sight for Mack to wake up to the following morning. Her PADD had chimed with an emergency tone. She had immediately thought of Marty, and then of Kent Hoberman. It had taken maybe a minute for her to orient herself once she realized who was calling her. "Excuse me, but could you repeat that?" she asked the Tellarite.

"I said," he gave an exasperated snort, "that our press is anxious to begin working on their official news story about your team."

"The problem is what, exactly?" she yawned.

"We have sent messages every day for the past week!"

"Messages? I haven't seen any messages."

"What?!" The Tellarite was apoplectic, and a vein was sticking out from the side of his neck. It was pulsing.

"Wait, uh, who did you send these messages to?"

"This is pointless. Put me through to your coach."

"I am the coach. Who did you send the messages to?"

"To the highest-ranked person on your ship!"

"That would be me," Mack stated, "and I didn't get any messages."

"Wait, you are not the assistant?"

"No, and there is no assistant coach. So who the hell have you been writing to?"

The Tellarite checked his PADD. "The man of highest rank on your vessel – the name is Wesley Crusher."

"Okay," Mack replied, "I'll get to the bottom of this."

"What about our interviews?"

"Tell you what – I'll call you back today and will offer myself up for the first interview. No time limit."

"Agreed."

Fuming, Mack confronted Wesley. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"Uh, what?"

"The Tellarites! They said they sent a ton of messages, trying to get interviews."

"Huh?" They were in Engineering, and he was aligning something or other, at the part where the wishbone configuration of nacelles met. "Can you hand me the magnetic wrench? Uh, there."

She handed the article over. "They said they wrote to you."

"Me?" He straightened up. "I don't remember getting – wait, I got a ton of spam lately."

"Spam? Can you open up your mail program, Wes?"

"Sure, just a sec." He wiped his hands on a cloth and began clicking around on his PADD. "Huh. Well, I'll be damned. Look at that."

He had dozens of notes, but none of them had subject lines. He opened up one at random, and read it aloud. _"This is the 82nd note we have sent to you regarding an interview with your team. Respond or be immediately disqualified."_

"How old is that note?" she asked.

"Almost four days. Here's one that came this morning." He read it aloud. _"This is the 114_ _th_ _note we have sent to you regarding an interview with your team. Respond or be immediately disqualified."_

"So they sent a bunch of nearly identical notes, with no subject lines, just expecting that we would somehow divine what they were all about?"

"With empty threats, too. I'm sorry I didn't read and forward them, Dana."

"Nah, it's okay. Why would you? There is nothing in this pattern that would clue in the program that was anything but spam."

"No wonder you never see Tellarite Communications officers," he quipped.

=/\=

Marty had his own communications issues. There were two messages from Tamsin. The older one said –

 _We'll be in the Kreetassan System in two days. Will you be anywhere near there? Please say yes._

 _–_ _Tamsin_

The other one said –

 _I can get shore leave throughout our visit to the Kreetassan System, or really any time you're free! Just let me know, and I'll work my schedule around you. I'm really looking forward to our date!_

 _Tam_

"Great," he sighed. He had been checking messages while on the Bridge, during a lull in activity.

"Something wrong, Mister Madden?" asked Picard.

"Oh, nothing, sir."

=/\=

Admiral Nechayev sat in her office. There was a communications chime. "Yes?"

"This is Ambassador Collif. I have recently been speaking with Captain Picard of the _USS Enterprise._ "

"Oh?"

"I was presented with a trade agreement that, to me, seemed to be beneath his purview. There was little to no need in sending the flagship of the fleet to perform such an act. Sometime after the _Enterprise_ departed, we began to record powerful and unfamiliar energy readings in our system. I believe – and my government backs me up on this – that the events are related."

"I see."

"When I confronted the captain, he referred me to you. So I am asking; Admiral, what is the meaning of all of this? Are the Kreetassan people in any known peril?"

"I will need to speak with the head of your government," Admiral Nechayev stated, "There is a certain matter that is _highly confidential."_

"I have that level of authority," Collif insisted.

"Forgive me, but I must check. Nechayev out." After cutting the connection, she checked. "Well, maybe you do, and maybe you don't. Computer, get me the Kreetassan Head of State. _Code level five."_

 _Stand by_

The relayer with the highest level of clearance answered. "Name and location, please," she asked.

"Kreetassan Head of State Borlani. Authorization Nechayev Phi 17. Code level five _._ "

"One moment, please." A pause. "Go ahead."

"I've just received a call from your Ambassador Collif."

"That was undoubtedly under my authorization," Borlani replied. He peered at the admiral. "Something is happening in my system, and I fear for the safety of Kreetassa. I am more than a little concerned. I would prefer to know what you do."

"Understood, but Collif's authorization is solely of a provisional nature. She's like a dog with a bone with this."

"Tenacious, yes. That is why she holds her current position. I can either increase her authority, or I can rescind it. What shall it be?"

"Borlani," the admiral stated, "we know that your scientists have measured substantial levels of radiation."

"Of differing bands, as well," he confirmed. "Have you been scanning my system?"

"Only the passive scans the _Enterprise_ took very recently. But we have taken more active scans elsewhere."

"I see," Borlani asked, "What can you tell me?"

"There is a cycling of the radiation bands, as you are well aware. We have seen some patterning and some repetition. Therefore, we are of the opinion that the cycling is a deliberate and artificial act."

"Do you believe it to be a hostile act?"

"We are being cautious about ascribing motives where they cannot be so readily ascertained. That is merely one of several competing theories."

"Can you inform me as to the coordinates of the other location or locations where this phenomenon has been observed?" Borlani inquired.

"That matter is not beyond your own personal level of access, but I would like for you to maintain its secrecy. That is, kindly do not even inform Ambassador Collif."

"That limitation on this bit of knowledge is acceptable."

"Very well," she stated. "The _Enterprise_ first spotted the cycling in the Denab System."

"That's uninhabited."

"Correct. There is a third location. Or, rather, a third and a fourth."

"How intriguing."

"The latter two sites are in the region of space that was once known as the Delphic Expanse. One of the locations is the Ceti Alpha System. The other is the site of what, according to the _NX-01_ 's ancient star maps, was the site of a failed Xindi sphere."

"The Ceti Alpha System is where Captain James T. Kirk sent the Augments, if I am recalling my history properly," he added. "How very interesting, Admiral."

"We are being cautious. But fuller and more active scans of your area would be a definite improvement. May we return, and finish our job?"

"That and more," Borlani decided, "Collif will be the point person for that. I will have her security clearance level raised immediately. Borlani out."

"Damn, forgot that." The admiral tapped out a fast note to Borlani.

 _I will need pretexts for my people to be back in your system. The rank and file who do not have the proper clearance will need a reason to be there, as the flagship won't just turn around for nothing or next to nothing._

A few minutes after sending her note, she received a detailed and satisfactory response.

=/\=

On the Bridge of the _Enterprise,_ Picard sat in command as Marty remained ready to take over, if necessary. He eyed his shut-off PADD a little, willing it to not have another note from Tamsin.

There was a communications chime, a priority message for the captain. "I'll take it in my Ready Room," he declared, "Mister Madden, you have command."

"Yes, sir," Marty was relieved to have something else to occupy his mind, other than thoughts of how Tamsin seemed a little … off.

"Yes, Admiral?" Captain Picard asked Admiral Nechayev as the Ready Room door shut.

"You may return to the Kreetassan System and complete your scans," she informed him. "In fact, you may go further, and enhance them with active scans, at the fullest extent of our current technology."

"I see. May I inquire as to what happened so as to precipitate such a change of heart?"

"Let us just say that your mission is now of great interest to the Kreetassan Head of State. Ambassador Collif has been granted a higher level of confidential access in order to be able to assume a new role as your point person for this mission."

"I take it she'll kiss and make up, as it were, then?"

"I would not expect the kiss," Nechayev quipped, "I also have a pretext for your return, for the rank and file. You may inform them that there are to be more trade negotiations. Their scientists need assistance from your Science Department and Engineering regarding issues with their artificial satellite system. Plus you will be there a month. You may inform others of this. Your location is no longer a guarded bit of information."

"Very well. Picard out." The Captain returned to the Bridge. "Mister Madden, you may stand down. Helm?"

"Yes, sir?" asked Kell Perrim, a Trill at the helm.

"Set a course to return to the Kreetassan System. Warp seven, engage."

"Sir?" Marty inquired.

"Admiral Nechayev informs me," the older man explained, "that further trade negotiations are now required, and their Ambassador Collif is again requesting an in-person meeting or meetings. Further, their scientists have encountered some issues with their artificial satellite grid. Their request for a month of our time and assistance has been granted. I should like the intercom, if you please."

The Tactical Officer, Daniels, looked up. "Go ahead."

"All hands, this is the captain. Our orders have changed, and we are returning to the Kreetassan System. Furthermore, our conditions of locational confidentiality have been lifted. You may inform your families of where we are going and, once we have arrived, some generalized leave will be granted, to approximately one-half of the Alpha Quadrant. By my reckoning, that would include the solar system, Daranaea, Andoria, Vulcan and Tellar. First Officer Madden will be in charge of the requests for leave. Thank you."

=/\=

On the _USS Talos_ , Ensign Tamsin Porter, a young officer who had switched from Tactical to Operations the minute she'd gotten a good look at the former head of Ops, Martin Madden, was distracted and not paying terribly close attention to her station.

She had her PADD out. A fourth note to the object of her interest? He had to acknowledge _that_ one.

"Ensign!" barked her new superior officer, a fellow who was nowhere near as attractive or interesting to her. "Pay attention to the simulation!"

"Yes, sir," she replied absently.

"If I have to remind you again, you will not get shore leave," he warned.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, sir!" Even the fourth oh so perfect note would have to be abandoned for that _._

=/\=

The request for a meeting came as no great surprise to Marty, and it pleasantly came with lunch. But it was to be held in a conference room and not _Ten Forward_ , so as to maintain high confidentiality.

He was the last one in, after handing over command to Tactical Officer Daniels. Captain Picard, Geordi and B-4 were already there, as were a plate of assorted sandwiches and a pitcher of ice water.

"Gentlemen," the captain began, not bothering to wait until everyone had so much as gotten their food, "we have a rather obvious change of plans. At this point, our first priority is to the Kreetassan System. As of now, it is the sole location of this radiation band cycling where there is a nearby inhabited system."

"So I take it that, for now, Ceti Alpha V and that other location in the Delphic Expanse are on the back burner?" Geordi inquired.

"Quite right," Picard confirmed. "My understanding is that limited tactical resources may be made available should those areas flare up. Mister Madden, you might be particularly interested, in that the _Talos_ is one of those ships which may be so mobilized."

"Oh? Is her captain aware of everything that's going on?" Marty thought briefly of Tamsin, recalling she was in Tactical, or had been. He might have had her confused with another woman on the ship.

"Not as of yet. The four of us, the flag officers of Starfleet, the Kreetassan Head of State and Ambassador Collif of Kreetassa, are the only persons who are wholly aware of the cycling."

"But that's official," Geordi pointed out. "Given that they're claiming grid problems, it may only be a matter of time before an engineer or a scientist – either ours or theirs or both – filters everything else out and finds this."

"I am more than certain that that shall happen," Picard confessed, "but it will be similar to when the press gets wind of our location when we travel with locational confidentiality. When in the neighborhood of known inhabited systems, the chief concept is that the press can and will find out – and they can print whatever they wish, so long as it is accurate and endangers neither members of Starfleet nor Federation citizens."

"But they didn't hear it from us," Geordi interjected.

"Exactly," Madden confirmed. "Plus, well, at least on the _Talos_ , we used to use it as a confidentiality test. Could the junior personnel be trusted not to spill the beans when it came to even the most minor level of secrecy? If they couldn't, they got a stern talking-to. If their issues persisted, it ended up as a letter in their files. People learned quickly that if they ever wanted to be promoted, they'd better keep their mouths shut. Families, far as I'm aware, learned not to ask."

"Precisely," Picard agreed.

"What will be our position," B-4 asked, the first time the android had spoken during that entire meeting, "when others discover the radiation band cycling?"

"The original veil of secrecy was brought down," explained the captain, "because Starfleet wished to be able to study the phenomenon without outside interference that could potentially skew our readings. But once the cycling was discovered, the issue became more tactical and prophylactic. It is preferred if civilians in particular do not attempt to travel to these sectors, but Starfleet does not wish to attempt to cordon off the area as, ironically, was attempted with the Talos System, a bit over one hundred years ago."

"So this is to try to reduce a curiosity factor?" Geordi asked.

"It's also to prevent possible actions by citizen vigilante groups, which may be convinced without clear proof that an invasion is imminent," the captain added.

"So it's to avoid a panic," Marty concluded.


	6. 6-The Probe

"I am speaking today with Dana MacKenzie, the coach and owner of the _Black Sheep,"_ stated a Tellarite news correspondent. "Coach MacKenzie comes to us live from her ship, the _Cookie."_ Even the Tellarite seemed to find the name curious and a tad amusing.

"Hello," Mack said, waving a little. She was in the Cookie's second level observation lounge, wearing a team jersey.

"Coach MacKenzie, my understanding is that your team is here to play Kreesta."

"Yes, that's right."

"Have you played it before?"

"Only one of my team members is Tellarite, and he never played it, either. So, none of us have. But we've sampled the dishes already, and are going to start working on the other aspects of the game later today."

"Our national team is looking forward to playing you soon."

"Can you tell me," Mack asked, "what the significance is of the sport? My impression is that it's to commemorate, maybe, some festival?" Her tone was an uncertain one.

"Yes, but the festival arises from a great victory our people won over the Andorians. In your year 1643, we were defeated when we battled them over a planetoid they refer to as Weytahn. But we bested them later, at a peace banquet."

"Peace banquet?" asked Mack.

"Yes, it was truly their mocking of us, as they felt they had fully conquered the Tellarite race. Instead, we quite literally turned the tables. The dishes were brought out, prepared and in the order as is still followed to this day. They all contained a slow-acting poison known as tricoulamine. But it was only in a part of each dish, and the drug is only fatal to Tellarites if taken in very, very high quantities. When the Andorians began to realize that some of their party had been poisoned, they began to throw things at their reluctant Tellarite hosts. The captain seeking vengeance was also the chef – his name was Kreesta."

"Ah," Mack smiled in understanding, "and you said the tables were turned literally?"

"They were," the interviewer confirmed. "In the earliest versions of Kreesta, an added degree of difficulty included the moving and rocking of the dining table."

"I imagine it got a little messy."

"It did indeed. Now, we have the racks, and the table is no longer deliberately moved, as that is now considered a violation. Getting back to our interview," the interviewer peered at her more intently from the screen, "what other sports do you play?"

"Well, we have already played ice hockey on Andoria," Mack explained. "This was against a Starfleet military attachment's own team."

"What was the outcome?"

"It was a loss for us, unfortunately," she admitted, "but that's how it goes. No one – not even with the greatest team in the history of the galaxy, playing the worst-ever team in galactic history – well, you can't expect a victory every time."

"But surely a supremely skilled unit would have every advantage."

"True," she allowed, "but there's always an element of chance. That's true in every good, lasting sport. I mean, if the outcomes were always so predictable, why would anyone play at all? We'd all just calculate out the statistics to as many decimal places as we wished, hand out the awards, and call it a day. Instead, there's some random chance involved. It makes it a lot more exciting for everyone to watch, and it makes it a lot more fun for the athletes to play."

"My sources inform me that your team will be on Tellar for a few weeks."

"That's right."

"Will you be visiting any open air markets?"

Mack forced out a tight smile. "No _._ "

"Can you tell our viewers why?" asked the interviewer.

Mack glared at the Tellarite. "My issues with the law are a matter of public record. But for anybody on Tellar who might not know, I was arrested almost twenty years ago, at an open air market on Keto-Enol."

"Isn't it true you're not fit to be free and seen in public, let alone own a ship – a Gorn ship, I might add – and own and coach a sports team?"

The interview had taken an unexpectedly nasty turn. The interviewer stared at Mack, willing her to lash out. Mack allowed some silence to build up before she spoke. "I was acquitted on appeal. Enolian justice takes forever. So, in the meantime, I cooled my heels in Canamar. If that makes our team unfit to play Kreesta, then we don't have to stop here, y'know." She folded her arms and stared back at the Tellarite interviewer.

"Your team is welcome," the interviewer clarified.

"We don't need this," Mack said abruptly, and then she caught herself. _Didn't Tellarites enjoy insulting people? Maybe that was the interviewer's motivation for the seemingly sudden bout of nastiness._ "Of course, you know," she tried a different tack, willing herself to calm down, "all of the Kreesta dishes are disgusting _._ But I don't see anything in the rules against projectile vomiting."

There was a slight silence, and then the Tellarite roared with laughter. "Your team will be most interesting to defeat."

"We look forward to wiping the floor with your national team," Mack bragged, "the dirty, vomit-covered floor."

"Then it will be an epic competition for the ages," roared the Tellarite interviewer.

=/\=

Marty had a few free minutes and could look at, and answer, any PADD messages he had received. Fortunately, there were no more from Tamsin. "Maybe you've calmed down a little," he murmured to himself. He was standing in the hallway just outside the conference room where the meeting had been held. The remainder of the meeting's participants had departed. He tapped out a note –

 _We'll be in the Kreetassan System soon. I'll need a few days to work before I can take any leave._

 _M. Madden_

He hit _send._ So much for the note to Tamsin. He punched out one more note –

 _Mystic,_

 _The locational confidentiality order is lifted and so I can confirm anything you might've seen in the press – we're going to the Kreetassan System. So I won't be too far from you._

 _Tell me when; I'm dying to see you._

 _Straight Arrow_

Again, a note was sent. His PADD dinged a few times, with messages from members of the _Enterprise_ 's crew, anxious to book shore leave. And, buried among the necessary paperwork, there was yet another note from the already overly attached Ensign Tamsin Porter.

=/\=

"Get me Section 31," Admiral Nechayev commanded. She was alone in her office.

 _Ready. Secure channel 42753 is available._

" _Operation Mirror Chameleon_ continues. I can't help thinking that some of our behaviors may have precipitated the onset of this phenomenon. Our experiments with pulse shots and ionization diffusers may have to be tabled for the moment. If we have caused this, I hope we can undo it. Nechayev out."

=/\=

With the interview finally concluded, Mack could turn her attention to more pressing matters. She hit a few keys on a wall communicator unit. "Crita, I'd like the intercom, please."

"Go ahead," was the crisply efficient Daranaean reply.

"All hands, this is the coach. All athletes are required to report to the holodeck for Kreesta practice. This includes all Vulcan team members – you'll be acting as assistant coaches, so be ready to take notes. Attendance is mandatory – see you in fifteen minutes. MacKenzie out."

=/\=

In an alcove near the ship's hidden ionization diffuser, a lone figure turned off a scanner and hurried away, but forgot to put everything back to how it had been.

=/\=

Mack was already in the holodeck as the athletes began to arrive. "Computer, create two standard Kreesta tables with racks. Add side tables, paddles and balls for six team members on each team, for a total of twenty-four people playing. At this point, do not create the Kreesta dishes."

 _Accomplished_

"Count off," Mack commanded. They all looked at her blankly, as she explained, "That means to shout out a number, in order and only once, so that I know if everyone is here. So, M'Belle, go!"

"One," announced the Caitian.

Up to forty-seven was counted off. Finally, the door slid open again, and the three remaining athletes entered.

"Okay," Mack said, "first thing we're gonna do is, we'll use the paddles and the balls and the racks. I just want you to serve, pass, aim and volley. Allowing a ball to go out or to knock over a rack will be considered to be a point for the other team. You won't be able to engage in any positive scoring for your own team. You'll play to the first team that makes it to three points, and then both teams will sit and allow another two teams to play."

"How should we select the teams?" asked the Denobulan, Efffenston.

"Uh, my assistants and I will pick for you. It'll start off as more or less random. So my assistants," she addressed the Vulcan team members directly, "the only things I care about are who gave up any points and who was the best at passing."

"Coach," asked Trechek, an Andorian, "what of the foods?"

"Later. Let's just do this first, okay?"

Play began. With no foods to distract them, the athletes played fairly well, serving and volleying with ease. It wasn't until the third and fourth rounds that they started flagging. Prior to that, the volleys had been fairly long.

Eventually, teams began to turn over. When everyone had finished playing, T'Val and the others presented their findings.

"All right," Mack decided, "we'll start with sets of six who didn't give up any points, work our way through them, and then to everyone with one point against them and so on, on down to if there's anyone who gave up three points."

"Very well," T'Val confirmed.

"This time," Mack announced to the entire assembly, "people will get up every minute or so. We'll start with only one person up at a time, but eventually we'll work our way up to five. Let's see how well you do with distractions."

As before, they played. This time, most of the volleys were a lot shorter, and they got even shorter with more and more people milling around, getting up and sitting down. The constant motion of their fellow teammates or their opponents proved to be extremely difficult for all to ignore.

"Let's try this," Mack suggested, once they'd gone through all of the athletes and everyone had had a second turn with every manner of permutation, "We'll play zone. What that means, in practice, is that you'll play one on one most of the time. But when your direct opponent gets up, or one of your teammates does, you'll need to be prepared to volley against one person on either side of your one on one, as needed."

"What happens if five people are away from the table?" asked Tag.

"I think we should agree to not have more than two people on one team up at a time, and not if they're adjacent to each other. It gets confusing and there isn't enough coverage," Mack decided.

"Cilla and I very nearly ran into one another that one time," added Dathan, a Tandaran. He gestured toward Cilla, a Klingon, and she nodded her confirmation.

"Right," Mack agreed. "So let's try to coordinate things a bit better. We know that the first person to finish a particular course gets a bonus for their team. Hence we might also want to try to promote that. If someone is really going through the dishes fast, teammates will need to cover for that person while they're up, and watch for them when they get up."

"I'm a lefty," Tag added, "and Xo and I kept hitting each other, but we did have better volleying coverage. I think I should stay on the extreme left side of any seating arrangement."

"There's another good idea," Mack praised, "now let's talk a little bit about volleying strategy."

"The racks were far more likely to go down if the ball was slammed down from above," Cilla observed.

"Right," Mack said, "when I was playing professional baseball, that move was known as the _Baltimore Chop_. But did anyone notice anything else about that style of play?"

T'Val interjected, "It appeared to be more difficult for opponents to return such plays, even if a rack remained in place. However, such a play was not easy to execute in the first place. Lower volleys – that is, those that kept the ball much closer to the Kreesta table's surface – were easier for the players to control."

"Those might be more of an issue with keeping the ball out of the other side's dishes," Trechek, an Andorian, opined.

There were general murmurs of agreement. "Let's do this. I'd like to see the people who gave up the fewest number of points. We'll make them up and into two random teams. Those two teams will play each other. Again, we'll only go as far as three points. But we'll bring out the burkoo leaf. That's the easiest stuff to take, right? So we'll play more or less like you're supposed to, with your paddle in your dominant hand and your fork in your non-dominant hand, and you'll eat. We'll test your theory out, Mister Shaw. Maybe the left side will be better, but then again, it might not."

"Should we get up?" asked Dathan.

"Not for this round. One step at a time," Mack stated, "let's just see how it goes."

Again, they played. The game became very messy very quickly, even though the burkoo leaf was a dry and simple dish. The more elaborate stews threatened to be disastrous. More than once, a ball went into a dish, another violation, and another awarding of a point to the opposing team.

The teams switched, and the set of less skilled players did not perform significantly worse that the better set had.

Once play was completed, Mack and the Vulcans looked over their notes. "We'll try it now with getting up, and we'll add a second dish. Uh, it'll be the next one after burkoo leaf. I've forgotten what it is."

"It's the thofen," Xo, a tall Jem'Hadar, reminded her.

"Ah, thanks. M'Belle, you'll switch with Dathan here for this round. Otherwise, we'll keep the same teams." The Caitian nodded and took her place.

Again, play was messy, but it was beginning to take on a semblance of order. Tag had been right all along – his being on the extreme left side of the table proved to be a smart move, and he was able to knock over opponents' racks with some measure of ease. Cilla ate faster than the others, so they deferred to her when she needed to get up in order to refill her plate. Xo kept his rack up longer than anyone else did – the sight of the big Jem'Hadar athlete seemed to help.

When both sets of games had made it to three points, Mack and the Vulcans had more or less decided who would be on the team, and who would be on the six-person bench.

"We're almost done," Mack explained, "Tomorrow, we'll play a real game or two, with all eight dishes. But right now, this was a great job, everyone!" She smiled at them all. "I also want you to know that anyone who does not play will need to observe, as I'm sure everybody's going to be interviewed, at some point or another."

"Will the interviews go much like your own?" inquired Grosk, the big Imvari.

"I should say so," interjected Tarjil, the sole Tellarite member of the squad. "For that is our way. Coach," he added, "I feel you handled the matter well enough, particularly for an off-worlder."

"Uh, thanks. Keep a cool head," she advised, "I was starting to lose my temper there, and that was absolutely the wrong way to handle things. So think happy thoughts while you're being grilled, okay? I'm sure you'll all do fine."

There was a ding – someone had a new message. They all scrambled for their PADDs. "It's mine," declared Yi'imspi, a Calafan athlete. She read the message to herself and then exclaimed, "Oh, my!"

"Something wrong?" inquired Cilla.

"I have been asked to – this is so embarrassing – to a photo shoot. They, the Tellarite press, they seem to believe I am a model."

Mack came and looked over Yi'imspi's shoulder. "Holy cow. I don't have any objection, but maybe take someone like Xo or Cilla or Grosk with you when you go, all right?" She turned to the assembly. "Just like yesterday, eat light for the rest of the day and get in a decent workout if you'll be playing. Bright and early tomorrow. See you then."

As she left, she noticed a short note from Hobie, just something silly. Smiling a little to herself, she just tapped back two words – _miss you_ _._


	7. 7-Road Blocks

The _Enterprise-E_ returned to the Kreetassan System early the following morning. Marty was roused out of a sound sleep, early, by several communications chimes. "This is what I get for not turning off my PADD at night," he grumbled to himself.

He started up the shower. "Computer, display all requests for shore leave, in time and date order, sorted by department, with Tactical on top." As he showered, the computer accomplished this task. Toweling off, he peered at the list quickly. "Grant leave requests to the first, uh, nine. Delay leave for the remainder. Next department to check should be Navigation." As he dressed and shaved, the computer continued until he had made shore leave decisions regarding all outstanding requests. "Computer, is there an unread note from M. Dana MacKenzie?"

 _Affirmative_

"Display the note."

 _Dear Marty,_

 _How fantastic that we'll actually be in the same general neighborhood! It really has been far, far too long. I've got any number of press engagements and all of that, but the only really pressing matter is the game on the twelfth. Can you come? It's going to be a messy affair, I can tell already. But it also should be good for some major league laughs._

 _If the game doesn't work out for you, how about the fifteenth?_

 _Let me know, either way._

 _The Black Sheep_

Before responding, he had the presence of mind to inquire, "Computer, are there any unread notes from Tamsin Porter?"

 _Affirmative_

"Display only the most recent one."

 _Dear Martin,_

 _Is it too forward of me to call you Martin? Can I call you that? I do hope so. It's one of my most favorite names, ever._

 _I can get shore leave on the tenth, the eleventh, the twelfth, the thirteenth, the fourteenth and the sixteenth. The fifteenth is some meeting, but I might be able to skip it if you put in a good word._

 _I saw from a news account that your ship is approaching the Kreetassan System! So we're right near each other and can spend lots and lots of time together! I'm very excited about this. We're going to have lots and lots of fun. I've already got about a dozen things planned for us to do. I bet you love roller coasters. I know I do! I've gotten us booked on the big one on Kreetassa. Better strap in – I hear it takes the passengers up to .05 G!_

 _See you soon. Call me!_

 _Bye._

 _Take care._

 _Tam_

He let out a breath. "I am over fifty years old," he muttered in some annoyance. "I despise roller coasters. Even if I did, by some crazy chance, actually like them, my stomach says otherwise." He shook his head. "I'll use the old _I have to work_ excuse. It's almost valid, anyway. I'll figure out something to say to Tamsin when I go to see Mystic, let her down easy somehow."

There was a communications chime, visual. He answered it. "Madden here."

"Yes, I'm so glad I caught you in your quarters." It was the captain.

"Sir?"

"I didn't wish to mention this in front of anyone else, as you technically do not as of yet have enough on-ship tenure, but I am granting you a week's worth of shore leave. I know the _Talos_ is in the area this should afford you an opportunity to catch up with some of your old friends."

"Uh, thank you, sir." Marty was a little nonplussed, but kept his feelings to himself.

"My pleasure. Picard out."

"Damn _._ "

=/\=

"Okay!" Mack called out as the athletes started to arrive. "I know this is nobody's idea of a balanced breakfast, but we'll all try to make the best of it, okay? On this side, I wanna see the following six players – Tag, Cilla, Xo, M'Belle, Grosk and Yi'imspi. On this other side, I wanna see Dathan, Effenston, Trechek, Tarjil, Loth and Chammin." Loth, who was Gorn, and Chammin, who was Enolian, lumbered over last.

The twelve athletes took their places as the others watched. "We will play a regular game of Kreesta. That means all eight dishes, and it also means refills if your rack is knocked over or your team commits a second foul of any type, like a basket in an opposing athlete's plate. T'Val will keep score. You'll do your best. I do not expect perfection, by any means. It's going to get messy. Everyone who plays will shower immediately afterwards, no exceptions." She engaged her wrist communicator unit. "Crita, get me Majira, please."

"A moment." There was a short pause. "Go ahead."

"Majira, we're goin to play a full game of Kreesta for the first time. I'm thinking now that it might be a good idea if you were to be here."

"On my way. Majira out."

"Are we ready to start?" Dana asked as soon as the Ikaaran physician arrived. The participants all either vocalized or nodded in order to indicate their readiness. "And, go!"

They all raced to the side tables in order to help themselves to their first dish. On Cilla's team, they deferred to her, and she filled her plate first, and quickly. Unmolested, she ran back to the Kreesta table, weighed her food and began to wolf it down. Three forkfuls had already passed her lips by the time Effenston on the other team had arrived, the first of his team to do so. He served the ball and they started to volley it back and forth as they ate.

By this time, others had weighed their plates and begun eating. There were bits of food flying everywhere, as all of them did their best to clean their plates rapidly while simultaneously batting the ball back and forth.

Cilla got up for the second course, the nachem, and was hit by the flying ball. The foul was duly called, although points were not deducted as the ball was still technically in bounds. Control of the ball shifted but no refilling was required.

"Bonus for Cilla's team, for being the first done," announced T'Val.

They continued playing. As before, food was knocked all around. M'Belle's fur was becoming particularly dirty.

Finally, although Cilla had been eating faster than the others for some time, it finally all began to catch up to her. She was barely able to finish the final course, and Chammin, on the other team, was the first athlete to finish the entire banquet.

All dozen athletes promptly dropped to the floor and held their bellies. "That was the most awful hour of my entire existence," Dathan complained.

"The full game was accomplished in forty-three minutes and sixteen seconds," T'Val informed them. "I will now sum up the scoring."

Majira set to work, but none of the athletes were truly injured, per se _,_ but all of them, even Tarjil – and he was a Tellarite – were sick to their stomachs.

"Xo's team, on my left," T'Val announced, "is the winner, by a score of 58 to 36. The highest scorer was Cilla, with three first dish completions and only four point deduction fouls, for a total of 26 overall points."

"All right," Mack said, looking them over. "I am so, so sorry. You probably all feel as awful as I have gotta say you look. Nothing more today, but eat light for the rest of the day and get in a workout whenever you're up to it. You know the drill, I think."

"As for the remainder of us?" inquired Adeel, the Witannen athlete.

"These twelve people," Mack indicated the athletes, who were all still sprawled on the floor, and seemed to be extremely uncomfortable, "will be the team and the bench for Kreesta. I haven't quite figured out who'll be on the actual team as starters, but these are the ones who've made the cut. I'm more than happy to hear protests, but I get the feeling anyone not playing isn't about to complain about that right now."

"Definitely not," confirmed Adeel.

"Look," Mack commiserated, "I can tell you all feel like hell. But the beauty of this is, as T'Val mentioned, it all takes less than an hour. I bet their national team is really fast, so expect it to be over even more rapidly."

"Ugh," Tag complained, "if I eat any faster, I'll barf."

"Maybe that's a strategy," Mack said. She kept her poker face for a few seconds. "Kidding. Really. But I'm sorry. Believe me, if I didn't need the credits in order to pay all of you, I wouldn't have agreed to this in the first place."

"I have watched the occasional Kreesta tournament on the viewer," Tarjil stated. "I do not recall seeing any vomiting. Perhaps the professionals can control their internal organs better."

"C'mon," Dana said, "Showers and then bed rest for all of you. Rest of the squad – work out like you normally would, and eat the way you normally would. We won't be here forever, y'know." She looked at them all, and then helped M'Belle up. "Next time, we'll make sure the holodeck produces chairs for all of you."

"Most definitely," M'Belle agreed. "I feel as if I am decorated in thofen."

"More or less," Tag confirmed. He put a friendly arm around her. "We should conserve water, y'know."

As they proceeded out of the holodeck, M'Belle replied, "I will not be sharing my shower with you, Mister Shaw."

=/\=

Marty got to the Bridge on time for his shift. "Good morning, sir," he greeted Picard.

"Mister Madden, I have seen your shore leave recommendations and have approved them all. I fully expect you to assist in supervising some of the shore leave parties."

Kell Perrim and Daniels both looked askance and briefly up but neither of them commented. "Yes, sir," Marty acknowledged.

"Today's task," Picard told him, "will be for you to begin spending some more time in and around Engineering. For the work being done on the problems with the Kreetassan grid, I should like for you and Mister LaForge and B-4 to assure that the crew are operating to the utmost peak efficiencies while not neglecting their regular duties."

"Of course, sir. Do you need for me to go there now?"

"I do. You may report directly to either there or to shore leave supervision from now on, while we remain in the Kreetassan System. You will not need to check in here first."

"Understood, sir."

"Oh, and Mister Madden?"

"Yes?"

"Lunch is in Ten Forward today, at thirteen hundred hours. I should like for you to let me know how things are progressing."

"Of course." Marty left.

As he was getting into the turbolift, he shook his head again. _How to deal with Tamsin?_ "I can't exactly back out now," he murmured to himself just before the doors opened into Engineering.

"Commander?" asked Geordi.

"Oh, nothing. Captain wants me here or on shore leave supervision detail while we're in the system. That should give us more time and flexibility for studying the phenomenon. Anything new to report?"

"Actually, yes," Geordi confirmed. "B-4," he requested, "tell the commander here what you found."

"We were studying the database for historical references to so-called pulse shots," the android clarified, "and came across some fascinating entries."

"Go on," Marty encouraged.

"Well, that's just it. We started hitting roadblocks when we got back to the 2150s," Geordi explained.

"The 2150s?" Marty inquired. "Isn't that about the time of the old _NX-01_?"

"It is," Geordi confirmed, "so we traced back to 2157 and the Lafa System."

"That's one of our older allies," Marty stated.

"Correct," confirmed B-4, "they were one of the first ten planetary systems to join the Federation. Theirs is a quadruple star system."

"Further," Geordi picked up the thread of the narrative, "there are apparently some legends explaining their two closely-related sentient species."

"Two species? Like the Xindi, or the Valakians and the Menk?" Marty asked.

"Kind of," Geordi said, "they come in two colors – silver and copper. But they otherwise look the same. They don't repeat names within a color until someone has died, as they still don't have surnames. But they can and do repeat them for people of different colors. Hence you might have a silver Baden and a copper Baden, and they are usually exactly the same age. But what's also of interest is that the two species can't readily interbreed."

"Well, neither can Xindi Insectoids and Xindi Aquatics," Marty pointed out.

"Right," Geordi confirmed, "but they also refer to the copper-colored species as the _night people."_

"Sounds like a superstition," Marty surmised.

"Calafans are known for having highly developed psionic abilities," B-4 added, "and these are generally only accessed via their dream states."

"That might explain the night people, but I'm still not seeing how this is related to our task," Marty protested a little.

"We're getting to that," Geordi said, "but there aren't a lotta records from the _NX-01._ "

"Those records were compromised," Marty pointed out.

"That's what _we_ thought, too," Geordi stated.

"Oh?" The commander was intrigued.

"We began investigating the _NX-01_ 's records," the android explained, "and continually came up against the absolute confidentiality level."

"That's the highest level there is," Marty said. "It's just the Federation President, Jaresh-Inyo; the head of Section 31 and the flag officers who have that."

"Various heads of state may be granted a degree of provisional access, as can others, if the need is great," B-4 clarified.

"Even the captain doesn't have this level of access," Geordi told them, "but his superior officer, Admiral Nechayev, is a flag officer. _She_ does."

"Why would it be so secret?" Madden asked rhetorically. "What the hell could they possibly be trying to hide? Why have they hid it for this long? It's, well, what year did you say you were looking at?"

"2157," Geordi reminded him.

"Then we're talking about something that happened a good two centuries ago," Marty said. "It really makes you wonder."

"I'm with you," Geordi agreed. "We have the first Warp Five starship, off to points not yet known. They meet a pair of psionic species. They do … something. All the while, the Calafans split off a group into so-called night people. It's got something or other to do with pulse shots."

"If the copper Calafans are the _night people,_ then are the silver ones the _day people?"_ Marty inquired.

"Logic would seem to dictate that," B-4 allowed.

=/\=

At lunch, they began to mention their concerns to the captain. He immediately cut them off. "I shall speak with Admiral Nechayev about this. If the veil of _absolute confidentiality_ is to be brought down at all, it will only happen if the circle of information remains very tight indeed." He looked up as Guinan was approaching. "Ah, what's good today?"

Later, in his Ready Room later, Captain Picard contacted the admiral. "The radiation band cycling," he stated, "my investigators are tracing it through historical records of pulse shots, and have come across a rather major snag."

"A snag?" she asked.

"Surely you are aware of the _absolute confidentiality_ order blanketing the vast majority of the _NX-01_ 's records?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

"Very well," he sighed, "but I trust you will speak with the remaining flag officers about this. I would put to you, Admiral that you cannot have your confidentiality cake and eat it, too."

"I will speak with them. Nechayev out." Once the connection was cut, she commanded, "Computer, get me the full unit covered under all absolute confidentiality provisions. Secure the channel."

 _Working_

The flag officers and the Federal President all answered after a short pause, along with the head of Section 31. "There is a request," Nechayev stated, "to pierce the veil of secrecy that surrounds the _NX-01_ and its first mission to the Lafa System."

Admiral Whatley spoke. "I suppose we knew it would come to this."

T'Lara stated, "Much of this information could be gleaned by a patient and dogged researcher."

"I disagree," interjected Admiral Janeway. "It would be a ton of unrelated data for anyone to try to put it all together."

Admiral Owen Paris asked, "Has any sort of an investigation been performed into determining what happened to the family?"

"We will trace the records," Nechayev stated, "but we do know there are a few surnames in particular that we should be investigating – Hayes, O'Day, Reed, Beckett and Digiorno."

"You forgot one," cautioned Jaresh-Inyo.

"Ah, yes," Admiral Nechayev recalled, _"_ _Madden_ _."_


	8. 8-The Tree

Chapter 8 – The Tree

The morning brought with it a new flurry of messages on Marty's PADD. Some were from the still overly eager Tamsin. But one message was marked in peach – confidential. He opened it and read as follows –

 _Report to the Captain's Ready Room at 0800 hours for a breakfast meeting. Attendance is mandatory. The meeting is confidential._

He tapped out an acknowledgement before getting ready.

=/\=

On the _Cookie,_ the team again met for Kreesta practice. The twelve players who had made the cut all looked at the tables with disgust. "This is the – eh – I am less inclined to wish to do this than nearly anything," complained Dathan.

"I hear that," Mack commiserated. "I don't ask for you to do this in order to be mean, y'know. So, look," she thought for a moment, "what I'd like to do is to try to play for strategy. Let's brainstorm some strategies, okay?"

"Keeping me all the way on the left seems to be helping," Tag offered.

"Deferring to our fastest eaters is of assistance," Effenston stated.

"Having no more than two people up at any one time is useful," Grosk added.

"I try not to breathe through my nose," M'Belle explained, "It lessens the impact of the spices and helps to blunt the flavors. By doing this, I can eat more, and more quickly, and have less chance of becoming sick to my stomach."

"I found it was best to use a backhanded stroke," Yi'imspi declared.

"Don't watch anybody else eating," Tag said, "it can make you sick. Or at least it has that kind of an effect on me."

"I just try to think of better things," Cilla confided to them all.

"Anyone else?" Mack asked. When there were no further responses, she stated, "These are good. Let's try to incorporate them into play whenever we can. We'll mix up the teams today, too."

This time, play was a bit better structured. The participants made less of a mess, and they were all feeling a lot better physically by the end of the session, than they had the previous day.

"Forty-one minutes and twelve seconds," T'Val announced. "The improvement in overall times brought with it somewhat improved scores. Cilla and Tag had the best scores for their respective teams – twenty-three and seventeen, respectively. M'Belle and Xo kept their racks upright for the longest time periods. Dathan was best at obtaining only the barest minimal amount of foodstuffs, in the shortest amount of time."

"There's another strategy," Mack pointed out, "and an effective one, I bet. I can tell, it won't be easy to pick the starters. I am particularly impressed – except for Tarjil, none of you had seen Kreesta, much less heard of it, and now you can actually play it – and play it pretty well, so far as I can tell. Great going, everyone."

Yi'imspi asked, "I have been contacted again about – oh, this is so embarrassing – about modeling."

"Do you want to do it?" Dana asked.

"I am unsure. I would like for someone to come with me, if I were to do so," the Calafan admitted.

Grosk offered, "I could go with you, if you so desired. I do not mind."

"I, that would be good," she affirmed.

"Then it's settled," Mack stated. "Anything else?"

There was a communications chime. Mack checked her PADD briefly. "Crita says that communications chatter is picking up. We are almost in Tellarite space. Let's get cleaned up and ready – we might be doing interviews tonight." She looked up. "Uh, dismissed."

Once the athletes had left, she tapped out a message on her PADD.

 _Straight Arrow, we're almost on Tellar. Tell me when._

As for Hobie's message, she didn't answer it.

=/\=

There were four of them in the Captain's Ready Room – Captain Picard, Marty, Geordi and B-4. The captain took the precaution of locking the door. He turned to the three of them. "This entire meeting is hereby at the level of absolute confidentiality. There are to be no discussions of the subjects we are covering, unless they are behind locked doors, or on secure channels, and only with the persons attending this meeting, either in person or virtually. There is to be no hinting in Ten Forward or elsewhere. I trust I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir," Marty stated for all of them.

"Computer," the captain commanded, "open a secure channel, bypassing the main communications station. Authorization Picard Alpha Seventeen."

 _Working. Recipient?_

"Contact secure location Phi Omega Twelve."

There were splits in the screen, with images of all of the flag officers, Jaresh-Inyo and the head of Section 31. Jaresh-Inyo spoke. "We have been made aware that your investigations into the radiation band cycling phenomenon have been hampered by the classification of data from the _NX-01._ Further, it is information on pulse shots that you are seeking. This meeting is to inform you about these matters. Admiral Janeway?"

"Yes," she picked up the thread of the narrative, "Commander Madden, some of this is going to be of a particularly personal interest to you."

"Me?"

She nodded. "How far back have you traced your family tree?"

"Huh. Not too far, I'll admit. I can get back to my great-grandparents."

"Why don't you provide that information?" asked Admiral Paris.

"All right," Marty drew a breath, wondering why this was at all germane. "My father's name was Thomas Madden. My mother was Ellen Reed. Her, uh, …"

"Just your father's side," Admiral Nechayev clarified. "Go up from father to grandfather and so on, ignoring the wives for now. Go as far as you can go."

"Oh, uh, all right," he was a tad nonplussed. "My father's father was named Douglas. His father was Peter. That's as far as I know."

"Do you know when Peter was born?" asked Admiral Whatley.

"Uh, I think it was around the 2250s or so. I barely knew him. Uh, why is this important?"

Ignoring his inquiry, the recitation of the Madden family tree proceeded. "Peter's father was named," T'Lara read off a PADD, "Dino Digiorno-Madden. He was born in 2215. His father was Martin Kevin Madden, born in 2195. Martin's father was Neil Digiorno-Madden, born in 2161. Neil's father was Douglas Jay Beckett, born in 2102."

"But Beckett was not his true surname," Janeway clarified. "He was originally Hayes. Beckett was evidently the man's mother's maiden name."

"So I repeat, why is this important, anyway?" Marty inquired.

"Hayes," Jaresh-Inyo stated, "was nearly identical to a MACO. Check historical records if you wish, for a MACO Major named Jay Douglas Hayes."

"Were these fellows cousins?" Geordi inquired. He, too, was wondering at the significance of the Madden line, and why it was a matter of absolute confidentiality.

"Not cousins," Whatley stated. "They were what we refer to as counterparts."

"Counterparts?" inquired B-4.

"Let us speak, briefly, instead, about how Douglas Hayes came to be known at all," Admiral Nechayev suggested. "In late October of 2157, the _NX-01_ approached the Lafa System for a first contact mission. At the same time, so did the _ISS Defiant."_

 _"_ _ISS?"_ asked Marty. "I don't think I know this designation."

"Imperial starship," T'Lara explained.

"Romulan? Klingon?" inquired Geordi.

"Terran, actually," Janeway clarified.

"But I'm all human," Marty stated, "or, at least, I think I am. That's what I've always been led to believe."

"Terrans and humans are close," Janeway added. "But let's get back to the first contact. As the Enterprise approached, anyone with latent psionic powers, or who was in physical contact with an amplifying alloy that the Calafans call _callidium,_ began to experience vivid dreaming. Truth is; that could have happened to any species, but in this case, these were humans."

"Dreaming?" asked Geordi, still wondering about the relevancy of all they were being told.

"This wasn't normal dreaming," Whatley told them. "It was shared dreaming, with communications going both ways. On the Enterprise, the dreamer was the chef's assistant, Lili O'Day. On the Defiant, the dreamer was Hayes."

"They apparently fell in love," Janeway smiled a little, "and the Calafan people worked to bring them together."

"Why was their help needed?" Geordi asked. "Wouldn't they just beam or fly to each other?"

"They could not," T'Lara informed them, "as Hayes and the Defiant belonged to another universe."

"Which radiation band?" asked B-4.

"Twenty centimeters," Nechayev said. "We are twenty-one, as you know. Mister Madden," she peered through the screen at Marty, "we have asked the Calafan government to provide the blueprints for a hand-held radiation band tester to Mister LaForge. Once the device is assembled, you are to be tested. It is assumed that your radiation band will be of some amount less than twenty-one centimeters."

Marty's jaw dropped. "Wait, what?"

"If my calculations are correct," B-4 stated, "a mere 1/128th of your radiation band would be less than twenty-one centimeters. This would make your band approximately 20.9921875 centimeters. The difference would be the reciprocal of two to the seventh power, representing seven generations. Further, if by chance your band is at all lower than that, it would indicate a cousin marriage in your past, likely preceding the current state of cousin marriage laws in the Federation."

Marty looked anxiously from one face to another. "You're saying I belong to another universe?"

"Actually, if I may be so bold," interjected the captain, "it appears to be your ancestor – this fellow Hayes – _**he**_ __ _ **did.**_ You, on the other hand, you appear to be a kind of cross-breed, as are all of these male ancestors that have been mentioned, forming a straight line back to the 2157 _NX-01._ And, I imagine, any sisters and the like would be this species of cross-breed as well."

"Why was this information kept secret?" inquired the android.

"The existence of a proven separate universe was deemed potentially a security risk," stated Jaresh-Inyo. "This universe was, according to Hayes, a violent and lawless place. But the real issue is with the Calafan people."

"You see," Whatley said, "they can shuttle back and forth, freely, between the two universes. They don't need band cycling; they can apparently pass in an area on the Lafa II planet, the area is called Point Abic _._ "

"Wait a second," Geordi said, after thinking for a while, "I think I remember we researched some of this. There was a story about the Defiant being lost. But it was in the 23rd century – that ship was a Connie."

"So far as we have been able to determine," Nechayev explained, "it was the same _Constitution_ class _Defiant._ Hence what we had was a lawless society with technology advanced by a century and a half. If more than just this one man had come over to our universe, they could have most readily conquered us." She paused, "However, it must also be pointed out that Hayes, in his initial debriefing, he indicated that the vessel was in a state of disrepair, and the crew was inexperienced."

"But I bet fifth columnists and skilled people – properly intimidated – could have filled in those gaps," Marty shook his head. "I can see why you'd want to keep it close to the vest, at least until the development of the Constitution class. But after that, why would you maintain this level of secrecy?"

"Understand that, once we had caught up to their technology, another crossover occurred. It was 2267, and the NCC-1701 underwent a transporter malfunction." Paris paused for a breath. " _The Enterprise_ – the _NCC-1701_ – was in orbit over the Halkan home world. In the other universe, the ISS Enterprise was in orbit over the Halkan home world's planetary counterpart. There was an ion storm, happening in both universes. While four people – Captain James Kirk, Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy, Lieutenant Commander Nyota Uhura and Commander and Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott – from our universe were attempting to transport from the surface to the Enterprise, their counterparts in the other universe were attempting to beam up from the surface of the planetary counterpart, and to the ISS Enterprise. This simultaneous storm caused the power beam to wobble, thereby precipitating the transporter malfunction. Therefore the crossover occurred."

"I seem to recall that that crossover was reversed within a day or so," Picard stated. "There were other crossovers more recently, at the wormhole in the vicinity of Deep Space Nine. Yet those matters were not deemed any more confidential than the usual for Starfleet reports."

"But you see, Captain," Janeway explained, "there were no children, and no one had stayed here. Back in 2157, there was this unknown immigrant. This was the time of the Terra Prime movement – don't think that the death of John Frederick Paxton spelled its end. For Hayes, he could have been easily killed by a mob, or could have been pushed to his limits. He was superior in strength and cunning to most people. In exchange for allowing his family to have a peaceful, unmolested life, he and the others were required to stay quiet."

"Hayes also fathered a total of five children," T'Lara explained, "So you have cousins, Mister Madden."

"Do they know about this?" Marty asked.

"They do not," Kathryn Janeway informed him. "But if there is an opening made between universes by this radiation band cycling, and that opening becomes stable, and it stays open, then I think that any level of confidentiality will be nigh well impossible to maintain."

"That's likely true," allowed Whatley, "not to mention fruitless."

"I will lay our cards on the table," Jaresh-Inyo said. "We have the following facts and issues – the radiation band cycling does include both our universe and the one which Hayes came from. For purposes of simplicity, let's call that the Mirror Universe. The mirror is also where the copper Calafans hail from. Plus there is the preexisting portal on Point Abic. Calafans of either universe can and do readily travel back and forth. But anyone in contact with callidium can make dream contact." He took a moment.

"We don't know if the cycling is coming from the mirror, or from some other universe," Jaresh-Inyo admitted. "Hayes referred to the mirror as being a violent place, barely this side of lawless. It was a totalitarian state. We don't know if the cycling will affect the Calafan portal. We also don't know if Calafans or people using callidium are in any danger. Or, truly, if we all are. After all, the mirror is also, per Hayes, an imperialistic society. They are conquerors. Even now, even without a technological advantage, they are going to have troops and weapons and numbers advantages, if they are still anything at all like both Hayes and Kirk reported. They could wage quite a war against us."

He looked around at all of them. "We will be collecting all descendants of Hayes. But we won't inform them of why we need their information until that information becomes necessary."

"My, my cousin, Myst – uh, Dana – she and I have a great-grandfather in common. He had two wives; we are descended from separate children from each of the two wives. But we're both descended from Peter Madden. So if I have this, whatever it is, this slightly different radiation band, and I'm guessing he did, then she would, too, right?"

"That sounds right to me," Geordi said.

"Your cousin is also of interest to us," Nechayev said, "for she has a ship with interesting technologies, including an ionization diffuser."

"Why's that at issue?" Marty asked, alarmed.

"Cloaking and diffusers – they can cause issues that seem similar to what happened to the _Defiant._ We know this from an incident with a ship called the _Pegasus._ Your predecessor would know, Mister Madden," Nechayev stated. Picard nodded his head.

"Yes, the ship partially interphased, did it not?" asked the captain. "Mister LaForge, you have experienced an interphase, yes?"

"I did," Geordi admitted, "Wesley Crusher and me – we were sent to 1941 briefly. It was due to the remnants of an old pulse shot."

"Crusher works for my cousin," Marty stated. "Curiouser and curiouser."

"Your cousin should not be using her ionization diffuser," T'Lara stated, "at least not without careful consideration. It is possible that something akin to an ionization diffuser is causing this cycling."

"Huh. What about our other close and remote relatives?" Marty asked.

"If whoever is responsible for this cycling breaks through," Jaresh-Inyo explained, "they might come after all of you. Or you might prove to be our last and best hope for peace with the mirror."

There was a communications chime. Nechayev looked at her PADD. "Mister LaForge, check your messages. You should have the blueprints for the radiation band tester by now."

Geordi set about checking his PADD. "Yes, it's here."

"Do you know of all of my relations?" Marty asked.

"We do not," Paris admitted. "We can pass you any data that we have. It will behoove us to check anyone in Starfleet, and as many others as possible."

"If that many people are tested, there are bound to be some inquiries and questions," Picard pointed out.

"Begin with the idea of a family reunion for yourself and your cousins," Nechayev suggested. "As for Starfleet, it is one of those things that can be incorporated into the annual physical examinations or tests for fitness, I imagine."

"So people kept perfect confidentiality for this long?" Geordi asked.

"Nor perfect," Whatley admitted. "There is a book. Mister Madden, it is long out of print and has been suppressed for a few generations, but it does exist and is, well, it is your birthright." He clicked a few things on his own PADD. "I have sent it to you."

"Can I share it with my cousin?" Marty asked.

Jaresh-Inyo thought for a moment. "Not until she is tested. But let's make that soon. This meeting is adjourned."


	9. 9-What Have We Done?

Chapter 9 – What have we done?

That evening, Marty commanded, "Computer, pull up a book called, The Human Pioneers of Lafa II." He then hit his communicator. "I'd like to speak with Dana MacKenzie, on the _Cookie._ Visual, please."

"Connecting you now," replied the relayer.

"Hey!" Mack called out, once she saw it was him. "What's going on?"

Marty fought not to just blurt it out and tell her everything he had just learned about them. "I, uh, it's, um …."

"Confidential stuff, right?"

"Yeah."

"Are you still orbiting Kreetassa?"

"We are," he confirmed, "and I can get leave. I'd, um, I'd like for you to come here, Mystic."

"Oh?"

"It would mean everything to me."

"Then I'd better come, eh? The fifteenth, like we'd been talking a little about?"

"Sure, a week from now would be great. Tell me how your Kreesta practice is going."

"Ugh. I'm not even eating, but it's still pretty gross. I half-suspected that the Tellarites were just putting us on, but it looks like they really do play it. It's broadcast on the viewer. Our match will be, too."

"So I can see you playing?"

"You'll see me, personally, coaching, although I'm not so sure what I'll be doing on the day of the match. But yeah, I'll be there."

"Good. I can't wait to see you," he admitted.

"Yeah, I feel the same way. Straight Arrow, you've always been good to me. You've always been there for me."

"Well, of course I would be."

"I, no, so many people, they abandoned me. But you, you stuck it out." Her voice broke a tad."

"Mystic, what brought this on?"

"I dunno, perimenopause, probably. But I really do mean it. You've really been amazing, Marty."

He thumped his own chest once. "The Straight Arrow's gotta come through, y'know."

"This is more than that, and you know it."

He was quiet for about a minute. "I, uh, you know I wouldn't, um, I wouldn't be there for, for just anyone." Now it was his turn for his voice to break a little. They gazed into each other's eyes, across the light years.

She bit her lower lip. "I, I'm sorry. I guess it's the stress of this damned game coming up. That's mixed with seeing you for the first time in a good two decades, and it just gets me all, I dunno, introspective."

"Know thyself."

"I know _you_ , too, Marty. I, um, I'm a little loopy, maybe. I'm just; I really wanna see you already. These few days are gonna take forever."

"You'll have the game, Black Sheep. The time will pass. I can guarantee that."

She glanced at the chronometer on her desktop unit. "Look, I'm gonna let you go, before I get even weirder. You, uh, we'll talk, okay?"

"Definitely. G'night."

"Good night, _Straight Arrow_."

The connection had been cut not thirty seconds when there was a communications chime, another visual coming in. "Mystic, uh …" he began, but it wasn't Mack on the other end of the line.

It was a younger woman, with brown hair and brown eyes, and a slight build. Tamsin Porter. "Hello, Martin!" she enthused. Then she caught herself. "Oh! Can I call you that? I hope I can call you that! Please say I can call you that."

"Uh, it's all right."

"Oh! Great! Well, your ship is here, and so is mine, and we were going to go on a date so I took the initiative – I hope you don't mind. Do you mind? Please say you don't mind."

"It's okay."

"Oh! Good! I took the initiative so that we could start planning. I mean, planning more _,_ that is. I've already got tickets to the biggest and brightest and absolute best amusement park on Kreetassa so that we can go on the big roller coaster! This is going to be such fun! And then …."

"Uh, Tamsin? Tamsin?" Marty put his hands in the shape of a capital T. "Time out for a second."

"Oh! Yes, yes, of course!"

"I'm not a fan of amusement parks or roller coasters."

The very slightest trace of annoyance and disappointment crossed her brow, for a mere fraction of a second. If Marty had blinked, he would have missed it. "Amusement park? Did I say amusement park? I must have meant Klingon opera!"

"I'm, uh, I'm not a fan of that, either."

"Oh! Then Parrises Squares? Karaoke? Rock climbing?"

"Let's just, uh, let's just get dinner tomorrow."

"Of, of course. I should have known you'd be working hard, and you'd be tired. Dinner is great! Sushi! Let's get sushi! Or Mexican. Or Italian. Or deli. Really, we can get whatever you want, Martin _._ "

It was a supreme effort of will for Marty to not roll his eyes at the, seemingly, thousand and one conclusions that Tamsin kept jumping to. "Sushi's fine," he replied, teeth clenched a bit.

"1700 hours?"

"That's kinda early," he pointed out.

"Oh! Well, I thought you would like early. Then early to bed, you know!"

Whether that crack meant that she thought he was such a geriatric that he desperately needed his rest – or that she wanted to start having sex with him as soon as possible – either explanation was far from satisfactory. "1900 hours, okay?" He fought to not be cross with her.

"We could make a night of it! We could go bar hopping! Or we could listen to live jazz! Or go to the Observatory! Or …."

"Let's just have dinner. I have responsibilities."

"Then I'll have to get you back early, back to your quarters! Then I'd tuck you in, and sing you a lullaby!"

"I thought I said no karaoke," he replied, deadpan.

She was mortified for a split second. "Oh, you are a funny man, Martin Madden! I can't wait! Tomorrow night's going to be epic! When will I go to the _Enterprise?"_

"Um, I'll come and get you on the _Talos._ See you then. Madden out." Before she could respond or even wish him a good night, he had cut the connection. He shook his head. "Computer, divert all calls from Tamsin Porter to voice mail, regardless of urgency level. Authorization _Madden Delta 614."_

 _Acknowledged_

"Pull up book."

 _There is an audio option._

"That sounds interesting. Who's reading the book?"

 _The author._

"What's the author's name?"

 _Leonora Digiorno._

"What? Uh, wait a sec. Computer, list everyone in history with the surname Digiorno-Madden."

 _In order of birth – Thomas Digiorno-Madden, Neil Digiorno-Madden, Jennifer Leonora Digiorno-Madden, Martin Kevin Digiorno-Madden, Dino Digiorno-Madden and Phoebe Ryan Digiorno-Madden._

"Is the last one a married name?"

 _Affirmative_

"No more?"

 _Affirmative_

"Wait a second. I don't recall a Phoebe. Did Dino have more than one wife?"

 _Working_

"I bet I've got even more cousins than I'd thought."

 _Affirmative. Dino Digiorno-Madden had two wives. The first was Phoebe Ryan. The second was Kirsten Morrow._

"Did both wives have children?"

 _Affirmative. But the surname for all of Dino Digiorno-Madden's offspring was Madden._

"So that's when and where we dropped the name. Uh, computer, begin the reading."

An older woman's voice, across the centuries, began to speak.

 _It began, not with a quest for religious freedom, or a grab for land, or a desire to create a utopian society or even on a lark, with people just looking for adventure and a change of scenery. No. It began with a kiss._

 _It was – let me go back – to the very beginning. It was December third, 2102. And a boy was born, to Jeremiah and Lena Beckett Hayes. They named him Douglas Jay. This was Ganymede. But it wasn't the Ganymede you and I know, for it was another universe, another side of a proverbial pond. The radiation band – unlike our twenty-one centimeters – it was twenty. And in a place where the odds were about three to one that you'd have a boy, a boy was born. And two days later, also on Ganymede, but on our side of the pond, a boy was born, to Jeremiah and Lena Beckett Hayes. They named him Jay Douglas. The boys were what we call counterparts. They were, physically, identical. But on the side with so many boys, there was a comparable spike of testosterone, and so things were skewed. And on our side, where literature and art and agriculture and peace are valued, on the other side, war and fighting and violence and exploitation – those things were valued instead._

=/\=

In his own quarters, Geordi worked on the radiation band detector. It was not a terribly complex bit of equipment; it was really just a wand with a wireless connection to his PADD. He waved it over himself. "Huh." He read off his PADD's small screen. " _20.9999946_. I wonder if this thing is working right."

=/\=

In her quarters, Mack fretted and even wept a little. "Why is this bothering me so much?" she asked no one. "What the hell is going on with me?" There was a message from Hobie. She stared at the header without opening it. "Not now," she muttered. "I can't handle this right now, dammit."

=/\=

In his own quarters, Picard stared out of the viewing portal. "Pandora's Box," he mused. "I wonder what else those admirals know of ionization diffusers and pulse shots and radiation bands. Could their actions have brought about this radiation band cycling in the first place?"

=/\=

A meeting was held, in person. Two women sat across from each other. One of them was Admiral Nechayev. It was her office. "Harriet," she began, "our operative reports that the ionization diffuser on Dana MacKenzie's ship has not been used in some time."

"Good," replied Harriet Caul, the head of Section 31. "Do you have a lot of data on the device?"

"Not as much as I would have liked. And, much like most crude models we've seen, it appears to run on ionizing radiation."

"Hence our problem."

"Precisely," concurred the admiral. "However, it's only a very small burst of ionizing radiation. Otherwise, it reflects chi spectrum radiation, and uses it for masking."

"We can use chi spectrum radiation for pulse shots," stated Caul. "So this device could be prototypical. We could have a cloak that isn't a true cloak, thereby still adhering to the letter, if not the spirit, of the Treaty of Algeron. Further, we'd be able to achieve a good, stable cloak without the kind of interphasing experienced by the _Pegasus."_

"Such is my understanding as well," the admiral confirmed.

"We'd have a means for accurately firing pulse shots, to go to, at least in theory, the Mirror Universe, and without an ion storm or a wormhole. We could go from anywhere, and at any time. We could also, perhaps, reverse a pulse shot and close off Mirror Universe access to our own."

"Possibly. That is a matter for scientists to determine. We'd have to be careful with that, though. Our allies, the Calafans, would not want their Mirror Universe access tampered with, not after they'd only won it back a little over two centuries ago."

"Yes," Caul agreed, "their Mirror Universe High Priestess, Yimar. Do we know if any sort of a modified pulse shot would be able to open a portal to some universe other than the mirror? The Calafans only seem to go to the twenty centimeter band, and to no other."

"I do not know," admitted Nechayev. "I imagine some form of adjustment and refinement would prove necessary."

"If we can get a handle on how to get into any universe, then we'd know how to keep the others out of ours."

Nechayev nodded. "That seems to be a most reasonable assumption. We will continue to monitor. If MacKenzie's engineer proves to be as adept and talented as we have been led to believe, then it would behoove us to bring him into our confidence and have him tackle the problem."

"One step at a time. If I am right, there are other devices that could prove just as, if not more, useful to us. The original inventor, that Gorn, what was his name again?"

"Szish."

"Szish, yes, that's right. Well, I suspect," Caul informed her, "that the entire vessel, and its many inventions, was being built for the eventual purpose of being able to move among various universes. Whether this Szish character thought he could smuggle to and from universes, or escape the law or otherwise hide, well, I can only speculate in that area. And, absent a séance, no one can ask him about it, anyway."

"Right."

"Keep doing what you have been doing. If they do come through, and even if their intentions are hostile, there is also the very real possibility that they would be all right with negotiating. Madden might turn out to be the right man for that job. He'd certainly have more in common with them than the rest of us would."

Nechayev got up. "That is an intriguing idea. I shall keep you informed."

Caul got up, too. "Madden seemed to take it all fairly well. Others might not be so sanguine. His cousin – can we trust a former convict?"

"We may have to, before this is over." Nechayev saw her guest out. Returning to her office, she commanded, "Computer dim lights to 85% illumination."

She sat down, and put her head in her hands. She was quiet for a while. "I could lay a wager that our behaviors precipitated this." She sighed. "There were our experiments with pulse shots. Our research into ionization diffusers – we did that, despite the fact that we signed a treaty, long ago, assuring that we would not do as much." There was a pause. "We have been busy, even as we pay almighty lip service to the idea of the anti-cloak technology treaty, the Treaty of Algeron." She shook her head.

Getting up, she looked out a viewing portal. To no one, she asked, **_"What have we done?_**


	10. 10-209914518

Chapter 10 – 20.9914518

The following morning brought with it a fresh flurry of messages from Tamsin. There were several places where one could get sushi on Kreetassa, or at least where it could be the subject of a special order of some sort. It was as if she had done a generalized search and then simply dumped the unsorted results on Marty's desk.

Fighting the urge to lose all of his remaining patience with her, he finally just closed his eyes and pointed. This was much like how he had chosen her in the first place. But at least a decision had been made, although it was one less item of conversation. The evening promised to be a trying one, but there was no sense in backing out.

"I deserve it," he grumbled to himself as he got into the shower that morning, "I brought this upon myself."

At least she was on a separate ship. He would not have to face her after that night.

=/\=

Mack had her team up early, and they were able to shave another four minutes off their best time for a full game of Kreesta. The starters were becoming more obvious. There was no doubt in her mind that M'Belle, Xo, Tag and Cilla would be four of the six.

=/\=

Geordi checked the radiation band detector on himself again, after making some small adjustments, and got the exact same reading as before. "Well, maybe I'm a cousin, although God knows we don't look anything at all alike. Maybe we're really distant."

=/\=

When the Calafan, Yi'imspi, checked messages later that morning, there were a dozen from a Tellarite agent, among her other notes. She walked over to Grosk's quarters and hit the chime.

"Enter."

"Are you busy?" she inquired.

"Only recovering from Kreesta, so not too much. Are you in need of anything?"

"I don't know if you recall," she explained, "but I was asked to model. I admit that I am curious, but I don't want to go to any agency alone."

"I see. So you are requesting my company?" the tall Imvari asked.

"If it's not too much trouble, then yes."

"I am willing. When would this be?"

"Now."

The Tellarite modeling agency was a study in contrasts. A person – it was possibly a secretary? That person greeted them at the door. "You must be Yi'imspi." The voice was high in pitch, even though that person sported an impressive set of whiskers and had a mostly bald head. They were female? A juvenile? It was not entirely possible to say.

Grosk and Yi'imspi entered. Another Tellarite blew in, with a wheeled rack loaded with garments of various sizes, shapes and colors. "Ugly! Ugly!" complained the greeter, seemingly disapprovingly.

The person with the rack bowed and smiled. "My latest creations! Might almost be suitable for a Calafan. Or for a garbage heap!" That person – the designer – and the greeter then burst into uproarious laughter.

"Most interesting, most interesting," muttered the Tellarite who had greeted them. That person whipped out a PADD and hit a few keys on it. A magenta-colored beam then shot out of it. "Sizes, sizes," continued that person, who hit more keys. This aimed the beam directly at Yi'imspi. The pressing of a few more keys caused the beam to wrap around the Calafan. "Ah, fourteen and ninety-three and then by lights of a thousand times the sun that warms Tellar!"

The person with the rack must have been listening, for they began to rummage through the rack. A garment was found, and held up to Yi'imspi's body. "Ugly!" shouted the designer with the rack.

"Yes, yes, ugly!" agreed the other. There was more laughter.

The garment itself was either a long tunic or a short dress. Grosk and Yi'imspi exchanged a look. "Do you want me to put this on?" she asked, after a while.

"Of course!" roared the one who had greeted them, leering. "Unless you wanna do some nude modeling!" This was apparently an even more hilarious joke than the sight of the garment was.

"Nude! You'll put me out of business!" complained the one with the rack. "I couldn't possibly design anything uglier than a body!"

"Where should I change?"

"Oh, yes, yes," the greeter led her to a small room, off to the side. With nothing else to do, Grosk stood guard at its door.

The guy with the rack stared at him for a few minutes. "I wasn't told I would have to be outfitting an Imvari," that one complained.

"No, no!" clarified the greeter. "This one is the boyfriend!"

Grosk was very tall, like most Imvari, with bright blue skin and what were essentially orange and tan horns sticking out, all over and around his face. He blanched a little, at the designation of boyfriend. He wasn't even, technically, male.

"No, no!" disagreed the guy with the rack. He pointed to his own knees. "Incompatible _!_ " The pair of Tellarites roared again, as Grosk's face visibly colored, for his knees were the site of his two-part genitalia.

Yi'imspi emerged from the side room, wearing nothing but the garment, which was very high indeed.

She was a Calafan in her thirties, so she was beginning to sprout silvery blonde hair on her scalp. Her arms and her legs, which had all started off as solid silver when she was born, were beginning to break down into a pattern. Currently, the silver color was a bit mottled and almost appeared wavy. Otherwise, she was indistinguishable from a human. "Well?" she asked.

The three other people in the room just stared at her. "Aha, uh," stammered the one with the rack, grabbing a matching pair of pants from the rack. "I, uh, better without the pants."

The other one finally snapped out of it. "Less, less ugly. Much, much less ugly." The PADD was attended to again. "Lights! Photographic illumination standard number seventeen! Stand back!" That last comment was directed at Grosk, who complied.

"How should I stand?" Yi'imspi asked.

The one with the PADD set to camera mode – who had also been the greeter – stared for a moment. The designer jogged an elbow. "Oh! Yes," the greeter said, "this, here, this is fine." Demonstrating, the pose was just about identical to how Yi'imspi was already standing. The elbow was jogged again. "Yes!" The PADD began clicking as the pictures were taken.

A slight gesture or a head tilt, this way or that, were the sole indicators that any changes of position were desired. The Tellarite love of insults seemed to have been all but forgotten, as image after image was taken. "Yes, yes, over more, this way, this way!" Arms flailed and Yi'imspi imitated the odd gesture, and yet more images were taken.

Standing behind, the guy with the rack now jostled Grosk's elbow. "Not so ugly, eh? I should design more like that _,_ eh?"

Grosk had to admit that that was a very good idea, as silver legs with just a hint of a mottled pattern flashed in the studio's lighting and, much like the rest of Yi'imspi, served to bedazzle him.

=/\=

Mack got in a 5K jog around the perimeter running track, careful not to disturb Crita or her paints. The mural of the Grand Canyon was taking shape nicely, as bluish-violet hues gave way to warmer reddish tones in one direction, and cooler greyish-blues and forest greens in the other.

In the corner of her vision, another bit was also taking shape. It was a series of images, painted within old-fashioned _trompe l'oeil_ framing that gave the illusion of the edges of a film strip, complete with rounded black edges and sprocket holes. Within each frame, there were the hints of color. It was difficult to determine just what that subject would be. However, as she had jogged past, Mack figured out the purpose behind it all. The frames would hold animation cels, and they would flicker as she jogged past.

Once she'd finished her second tour around the perimeter, she went over to Crita. "Wanna take a break?"

"Uh, sure, just a moment." A brush was set into a jar of thinner, and the area was tidied up as Mack assisted a bit.

"I understand your parents are coming," Mack stated as the two women strolled to the Cookie's mess.

"Yes. They, they have images for me to review."

"Artwork?"

"Would that it was," the Daranaean lowered her eyes. "It is images of men. I have been unmarried for too long as it is."

"Oh. How do you think that'll all go?"

"I do not know," Crita said, "but if I was to wed, I would have to leave."

They were both quiet for several minutes. "Well, I for one," Mack said, "would not want you to leave. But it's not my decision to make, now, is it?"

"Of course not. In the history of my people, there was a very long time when that would not have been my decision, either."

"Really?"

"I am a third caste female. Whoever I wed will already have two wives. One, the Prime Wife, she will rule the roost. The secondary will educate our children. The third caste wife picks up and cleans, mostly."

"What about you, Crita?"

"My traditional role would be to keep the home. I would clean and carry; it would be that sort of thing."

"Nothing intellectual?"

"Dana, it was not until first contact with the Federation that my people began to determine that allowing women like me to learn to read and write was a good idea."

"I see. At least, I think I do. Would every Daranaean man require you to be this way?"

Crita cocked her head at an angle, a sign of some confusion on her part. This also made her look particularly canid. It was a serious moment, but Mack did find the pose to be a bit amusing. "I mean, uh," Dana said, "that if there was a Daranaean man who liked your artwork, at least you could paint, right?"

"I, I am unsure. I do hope that would be so."

=/\=

On the _Enterprise-E,_ Geordi, Marty and B-4 entered a private conference room near Engineering. Geordi had a pack and opened it, taking out a device which was really just a wand. He then began to make adjustments on his own PADD, clicking here or there, or sliding a finger along a display.

"Is that it?" asked Marty, picking up the wand.

"Yes, just, uh, put it down for a second, please. I need to finish calibrating."

"Oh, sorry." Marty put the wand down.

"Okay, um, and, let's see." Geordi picked up the wand. "Hold out your hand." Marty complied, and Geordi ran the wand over it. There was a faint confirming beep that the reading was concluded. "Ah, there it is," he stated, _"20.9914518."_

"Well, I'll be damned," Marty stared at his own arm for a second, as if that were the source of the discrepancy.

"By my calculations," B-4 said, "you have at least two cousin marriages in your past, Mister Madden."

"Excuse me?" Marty inquired.

"Your radiation band is lower than predicted. That indicates more than one genetic contribution from the Mirror Universe. After the Douglas Hayes generation, the figures are more difficult to ascertain. But the evidence is in the numbers."

"I scored on it, too," Geordi admitted, "but my number is higher than I would have expected. I'm thinking that means an extra non-Mirror generation in there."

"That is a reasonable guess," concurred the android.

"So we're related?" Marty asked.

"It would seem to be the case," Geordi said, "but probably not too closely. It might even be as far back as Hayes's children themselves. Wait, is that possible?"

"It is," Marty confirmed. "I had the book read to me. The author read it, actually. So I learned a lot about my – uh, our – family, at least as it was for the twenty-second century and down to as recently as 2212."

"What happened in 2212?" Geordi asked.

"The author got very sick, and she died," he stated succinctly. "But hang on; I'll get the notes from my PADD." Madden clicked around a bit. "Okay. Hayes was in the Mirror until late 2157. He comes over and he fathers five kids from two different women. His wife, Lili, she has a son, Joss Beckett, and the only daughter, Marie Patrice. But only Joss has any kids. Melissa, his, uh, well, I'm not so sure what to call Melissa, but she has three sons with him – Tommy, Neil and Kevin. Melissa is Madden, but her two older sons are Digiorno-Madden."

"Who is named Digiorno?" inquired B-4.

"The writer of the book was, actually. She and Melissa were together, so she – uh, the writer, that is – she adopted the two older ones. The youngest was sickly and didn't live long. His last name was Madden-Beckett. The only one of these three to have kids was Neil. There's a sixth child, Declan Reed, and he does have kids, but he's Lili's with a Starfleet pioneer named Malcolm Reed."

"Go on," Geordi encouraged.

"Anyway, far as I can tell, and far as the flag officers could tell, I'm one of Neil's own. Neil has two kids, Jenny Lee and, heh, Martin Kevin. Then it's five generations until I show up. My middle name is Douglas – I never realized it was a family name, but it seems there are a lot of repeating names. My father was Thomas, his father was another Doug, and before him was Pete."

"Where does Pete fit in?" asked the engineer.

"Oh, you mean in terms of names? That's Lili's father's name, apparently. I dunno if I'm related to her – it doesn't seem like I am, but with cousin marriages who knows? Before Pete was Dino, and Dino was the author, uh, Leonora, that was her own father's name. Dino was Martin Kevin's kid. Y'know this also means, since Pete is a common ancestor for my cousin and me, that's she's in this, this tribe, as well."

"Testing of the entire ship's complement would be a good idea," B-4 stated. "That is, the human crew members, and all part-humans."

"Right," Geordi agreed, "but after a while it gets intrusive. Plus how many people would be related and also serving on the same ship? The odds aren't so great."

"Would we test every single human?" Marty joked, "That's a few billion folks. You'd better build a few more of those things," he indicated the wand.

"Perhaps a less intrusive means of testing could be devised. Or, at least, a less obvious form." B-4 picked up the wand. "It appears to work via the application of a small dose of chi particle radiation which is then reflected back to the wand and then the information is passed to the PADD."

"Yes, that's right," Geordi confirmed.

"Therefore, if my own circuitry could be so modified, I could perform the same type of testing," B-4 offered.

"That's not a bad idea." The engineer worked on B-4 for a while, removing a plate under an index fingernail in order to directly access the circuitry. "Try it now," he suggested.

The android shook hands with him. _"20.9999946._ Is that the reading you got?"

"It is. So it looks like we can do this, and accomplish it surreptitiously. Try the commander, all right?" Geordi suggested.

The android shook hands with Commander Madden and said, _"20.9914518._ There is a match."

"All right," Marty said, "I'll get my cousin to come on board, and you can test her. In the meantime, might as well start testing our shipmates. But keep it on the QT, okay?"

=/\=

In the _Cookie_ _'_ _s_ mess, Crita and Mack sat together. "They have sent me three images, with descriptions, of men who are interested. Shall I read them?"

"Only if you want to," Mack said.

"It is all right. The first one – they are pushing for him, as he is the son of a Prime Wife – his name is Kytharis." She showed a picture; he was brown-furred. "He is; they say he is a merchant and so the household is wealthy."

"Okay. Who's Bachelor number two?"

"Oh, no, none of them are bachelors. They all have, already, two wives."

"Sorry, I forgot."

"The second is; his name is Varus. He is a business associate of my father's. I have known him a long time. But he always seemed to be so very old. I believe he is senior to my father." This picture was of a greyish-furred Daranaean.

"Let's look at number three, okay?"

"To be sure. He is a cousin to me." The image was of a red and white furred male; the colors were in large splotches.

"I like the patchwork coloring," Mack said, "how close a cousin is he? You know there's a law about those kinds of marriages."

"Yes," Crita confirmed, "and it has made some things more difficult in Daranaean society. For many generations, the leading families all intermarried. Now, because we cannot have great-grandparents in common, it means that the leading families have had to look outside their inner circle for mates for their daughters." She peered at her PADD a bit. "It says here that Senjarus is now a military man."

"Which one is Senjarus?"

"He is, you commented on his red and white patched face."

"Oh, yeah." Mack looked at the image again. "He's got a pink nose, too. He's kinda cute."

"Do you think so?"

"It's a lot more important if _you_ think so, Crita."

"I will have to smell him first. That will really tell the tale." She sighed. "At least he is a fairly remote kinsman, so there are no worries regarding our familial relationship. His great-grandfather was younger half-brother to my great-grandmother. So we are all right."

"Do you know him?"

"Not well. It is so confusing."

"Are these the only guys for you to choose from?"

"For now," the Daranaean said. "But my parents will be very cross with me if I delay too much."

"Don't they want you to be happy?" Mack's PADD dinged, signifying the presence of a new message, but she ignored that for the nonce, in favor of listening to Crita.

"They want me to be situated well. Happiness, it comes later, they say. I must be certain that I get along with the two other wives. Or else my life will be miserable."

Mack patted her arm. "I don't know what to advise you."

"It is all right. But, you should check your PADD. It is flashing."

"Okay." There was one note from Hobie, but the more recent note was from Marty.

 _Mystic,_

 _Come to the Enterprise, on the fifteenth like we said. Can't wait._

 _\- Straight Arrow_

Marty read her quick reply and smiled to himself.

 _Straight Arrow,_

 _I am giving advice to the Daranaean lovelorn. Can't wait to see you either._

 _Sheep gotta fly._

His PADD chimed, indicating that he needed to leave in order to be on time for his evening with Tamsin. Sighing to himself, he departed.


	11. 11-Couplets

Chapter 11 – Couplets

At least Tamsin wasn't jumping up and down when Marty stepped off the transporter pad. He thanked the heaven and any supporting deities, real or imagined, for that small favor.

She began talking a mile a minute as soon as he'd rematerialized. The transporter chief, somebody new since Marty's departure from the _Talos,_ was a Bajoran, who rolled his eyes, none too discreetly.

"… and there's just, oh, sushi! It is the most romantic – ever meal! I mean, some would say French, and I guess others would say Italian, but there's all these heavy sauces, y'know? Then all anybody ever wants to do is sleep! And …."

 _As if_ _ **you**_ _ever sleep,_ Marty mused, but did not vocalize. _If there are past lives, I bet anything that you were a Jack Russell Terrier._ "Tamsin? Tamsin!" Again, he held up his hands in the shape of a capital T. "Are you ready to transport to the surface?"

"I, I need to go to my quarters for a second," she said nervously, picking a speck of imaginary lint off her full-dress uniform. She started to leave. "Aren't you coming with me?"

The last thing he needed was to meet former colleagues, or be trapped in her quarters. "It wouldn't be proper."

"Oh." The tone was one of some disappointment. "I'll hurry right back!" She was gone in a flash.

Marty turned to the Bajoran. "I see the left control is still sticking a little. Your predecessor used to whack it with a hammer every now and then."

"I'll try to remember that, sir. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Marty tugged a little at the collar on his regular uni. "She always like that?"

"Pretty much, so far as I can tell."

"Thanks. Uh, don't say anything, all right?"

"Not a word, sir."

=/\=

On the _Cookie,_ Wesley put in a call. "I'd like to speak with Lakeisha Warren, at Starfleet Academy."

"Connecting you now," announced the relayer.

"Hey!" Wes called out. "How're you doin'?"

"Pretty good. I had rehearsal and more rehearsal today." She played the French horn, and the instrument was still in her hands as she had been cleaning it. "Big doings here."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Lakeisha said, "flag officers are coming in less than a week, on the thirteenth. It's some sort of big doings. Of course I don't know the specifics. I just play what they tell me."

"Which is?"

"Tchaikovsky's _1812 Overture._ Big time classical. Big time war music. I wonder if the musical director is trying to make some sort of a not-so subtle statement."

"You think so?"

"Post-Dominion War, post-Shinzon, you get the idea. There are people saying," she intimated, "that this decade is almost like the 2150s, with its Xindi War and then the Earth-Romulan War coming one right after the other. News and rumors around campus are that a lot of us will be shipped out to fight."

"But to fight whom _,_ Lakeisha?" Wes asked. "I mean, I haven't seen anything on the viewer recently."

"I don't think anybody knows anything specific or concrete. I think it's more that they've just got a feeling. 'Course, it might just be paranoid seniors talking; nervous about where they'll be assigned when they graduate."

"That's not unheard of." Wesley allowed. "The team's on Tellar. They're gonna play a sport called Kreesta."

"I think I've seen that on the viewer. It's a mess if you do it right, am I right?"

"Yep, you are. Now, uh, let's talk about something more pleasant, okay?"

"Like what?"

"Uh, I dunno," he admitted, "maybe about how beautiful your eyes are."

"Heh, uh, well, um, thanks." Lakeisha seemed unused to taking compliments. "I, um, it feels weird when you say that."

"Well, it's true."

"I, um, can we not talk about me? Tell me about your ship."

He sighed very slightly. "Um, all right. I, uh, it was built by a Gorn but a lot of it wasn't finished."

"Don't tell me you're missing a nacelle, or anything like that," she joked.

"Nah, it's not like that. It's that it's a bunch of projects. There was something the guy made, it seems to fire a shot, but I can't figure it out."

"A weapon of some sort?"

"I dunno. It's more like, you fire it, or at least I tried to, once, and I got a small kinda a hole in the air, if that makes any sense."

"What happened to that hole in the air, Wes?"

"It just kinda dissipated. I get the feeling it needed more power, but I think if it'd given it more power, I would've damaged the ship."

"Maybe you should fire it outside the ship?" she asked. "But keep in mind, I'm no engineer."

Wesley thought for a moment. "Lakeisha, you're a genius!"

"I am? I mean, _I am._ _"_

"Yeah, you are. With beautiful eyes."

"Wes!"

=/\=

"I would like to speak with Seramus and Linatella. I believe they are on a Daranaean vessel."

"Connecting you now," stated the relayer.

"Mama! Papa!" Crita called out, upon seeing her parents on the screen. "How are you?"

"We are well," replied her father.

"Are you well?" inquired Linatella. "You seem thinner. Do you eat enough meat?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Have you had a chance to look at the three biographies we sent to you?" asked Seramus.

"Seramus! We agreed we would have more of a conversation with Crita before we brought that up!"

"Mama, Papa, it is all right. Yes, I have looked."

"Kytharis is from a very fine family," Seramus stated. "He will provide a powerful connection. Varus would strengthen our preexisting business bond."

"Please," Linatella said, "the child does not wish to hear of business bonds and such. So, tell us, how does your preference go? Do not forget, Kytharis is not only handsome; he comes so very well-connected!"

"I, I do not know. Perhaps I could meet them."

"That is what we wish for, too!" Linatella crowed. "Tell her, Seramus!"

"Yes, my child, we are bringing the three men with us. We will meet with you in a few days. You will smell as pretty as you can for them."

"Yes, Papa."

"You will listen to their proposals, and try to get on with their Prime Wives," Linatella added. "Getting along with the two other wives is just as important for us third caste females as is selecting a husband. Why, it is one of the cornerstones of such a selection! Do us proud, Crita."

"Yes, Mama."

=/\=

Back on the _Talos,_ Marty and the Bajoran transporter chief waited. "Has there been a lot of turnover?" Marty finally inquired.

"Sir? Oh, uh, yeah, lots. Over half of the crew's only been here for maybe two months or so, something like that, myself included."

"Ah, I see." Marty silently congratulated himself for leaving the _Talos_ when he had. While things were far from perfect on the _Enterprise,_ at least he wasn't trying to guide and mentor and shepherd a few hundred brand-new crewman. Or Tamsin, who was still absent. The length of her absence was becoming tiresome.

Finally, the door swished open, and both men looked up. It was Tamsin, returned, this time wearing a skimpy black dress with the flimsiest of zebra-striped wraps on her shoulders. "I'm ready!"

"You _changed?"_ Marty asked, more out of surprise than anything else.

"Oh, do you, do you hate it? I can change back."

"No, no, that's fine," he insisted, teeth a little clenched. He was hungry already. "Let's go." He gave the coordinates to the Bajoran and they were beamed to the surface of Kreetassa.

=/\=

"Meet them _all? At the very same time?"_ Crita asked, a little anxiously.

"Yes! They are all here!" enthused Linatella.

"We have enough room," her father stated. "You can decide, and be married, and come back with us, all in the same day."

"Oh."

=/\=

Marty and Tamsin rematerialized directly in front of the sushi restaurant. "Do you want to walk around first? I love to walk around!"

"Uh, actually, I wanna eat, Tamsin."

"Well, then, let's eat!" She stood at the door, expectantly, and then a little bit impatiently, and tapped her foot a little.

"I, uh, oh yeah. Sorry." He held the door for her. She sauntered in, hips swaying in an exaggerated fashion. He shook his head and rolled his eyes slightly. It was going to be a long night.

=/\=

"Are you not pleased, my daughter?" asked Seramus.

"I, uh, I know you have, you have gone to a great deal of trouble on my behalf." Crita struggled to find the most diplomatic way of telling them what she was feeling. Then she seized upon an idea, clutching it like a life preserver. "I, well, there will be two disappointed suitors. How can I, how can I flaunt my, my happiness in, in front of them?"

Her parents thought for a moment. "Perhaps the child is right," Linatella allowed.

Seramus looked from one furry face to the other. "There, eh, we shall see. But in the meantime, at least start to think about settling your affairs."

"I, yes, Papa."

=/\=

Once they were seated, Marty looked at the Kreetassan waiter, who had appeared nearly instantly, almost as if he'd been beamed from another part of the establishment. "I'll have, uh, whatever you have that's, uh, fresh and light." And, he said to himself, fast.

"Yes! The Surfside! Excellent choice, sir." The Kreetassan turned to Tamsin. "And for the lady?"

"Uh, the same, thanks." Once the waiter had departed with their orders, she leaned over their table and stuck her hand out, palm up. "I'm so glad we're here! This is great!"

"Uh, yeah."

"Strong and silent type, I know you! Commander, you are a man of few words. But of strong passions, I bet." She eyed him slyly.

Marty swallowed, silently cursing himself for having been dumb enough to let it go so far.

=/\=

"Lakeisha," Wes said, "I don't know when we'll be on Earth next. I'd like to see you, when we are."

"Sure. This flag officers' concert, it'll be done in a few days. We'll post mortem it, but it'll still be less than a week. After that, I've got classes and the usual, you know how it is. Confidentially," she added, "rumor has it that the whole thing is a front for them coming in and doing some recruiting for Section 31."

"Well, you don't know that for sure _._ "

"No, we don't. But it is kinda interesting. Still, I doubt that they'd need anyone who can blow a horn. They must need engineers, though."

"No, thanks. I've had enough of formalities and a chain of command to last me a while, Lakeisha."

"Got it," she said. "You like it there?"

"I do, actually," he admitted. "It's not Starfleet, I'll tell ya. Mack loves sports and she seems to love doing what we're doing, but she's not a stickler for protocols."

"She wants to win the games, though, right?"

"Well, yeah. But I think it doesn't take a back seat to having a good time with her."

"I started following your broadcast channel," Lakeisha told him. "I saw the interview that Tellarite did with her. Not very nice."

"Well, it's Tellarites," Wes explained. "They love to insult and argue. I think she pulled it out at the end. They seemed kinda impressed that she didn't just blow her stack."

"Exactly," Lakeisha agreed. "Hey, we should play for you. Then the channels could be, like, merged together, or something."

"Are you, uh, propositioning me?"

 _"_ _Maybe."_

=/\=

"You will have us meet with your employer," Seramus commanded. "We will discuss with him the terms of your final payments, and terminating your employment agreement."

"My, my boss is a human female."

"A _female?"_ asked Linatella. "Then we should speak with her husband."

"Uh, Dana doesn't have a husband."

 _"_ _No husband!"_ Linatella was horrified. "Has she been influencing you about not marrying?"

"No, Mama. I am here to run Communications. In my spare time, I am permitted to paint."

"Useful skills to have," Seramus praised, "perhaps your pretty pictures will sooth your future husband when he is cross."

=/\=

Tamsin still had her hand out, probably expecting Marty to take it. She scowled a little when he made no move whatsoever to do so.

"What have you been doing on the _Enterprise?"_ she asked brightly, as water was served.

"Cocktails?" inquired the waiter.

"Nothing for me," Marty replied quickly.

"Uh, no, thanks." Once the waiter left, Tamsin said, "That's a good idea. I mean, alcohol makes things a lot easier, of course, but I understand it makes other things more difficult." This time, she put her hand under the table and squeezed his knee, and then brushed her hand, ever so slightly, across one thigh.

His eyes widened for a split second. "Uh, Tamsin, we have to talk."

"What about?"

He steeled himself. "Uh, this was a mistake. I'm sorry. But I think you like me a lot more than I like you."

She was quiet for a moment and then her face threatened to split with a grin. "You like me! Oh, I was so unsure!" She brushed her hand under the table again, more aggressively this time.

 **"** **Stop** ** _,_** **"** he said sternly.

"But _why?"_

"Have you listened to a word I've said to you?"

"Yes. You said you liked me."

"I –" he gritted his teeth in exasperation as two huge servings of sushi, within watermelon 'boats' arrived. "You don't seem to be hearing anything that contradicts your, your world view."

"Oh?"

"Don't play coy. I'm sure you're smarter than that, Ensign. Just, just quit being so ri- _goddamned_ -diculous."

"Hey! You're the one who asked _me!"_

"I, I know. I'm sorry." He got up, clicking his PADD against a device on the table, so as to transfer credits to pay for their meals. "Blame me for everything." Clicking open his communicator, he asked, "Geordi, can you get someone to beam me up from the surface?"

"When?"

 _"_ _Double time."_

"Got it. LaForge out."

=/\=

"Let us not speak of cross husbands," Linatella suggested. "Wear your geometric print tunic. It is so lovely on you."

"Yes, Mama."

"You seem to have sad eyes, child," her mother said. "Is something the matter?"

"I, I just, I like it here. I am enjoying my time here. I did not – do not – want to cut it short."

"You will make new friends," Seramus declared. "Today is the ninth; we will see you on the fourteenth. Seramus and Linatella out."

=/\=

"Well, this took a turn," Wes smiled at Lakeisha. "Um, I, uh, maybe I shouldn't have brought that up quite so quickly."

"It's okay. We, we like each other. I know I'm not the only one of the two of us who's been thinking about it. Uh, I'm not, am I?"

"Now you know why I wanna see you, y'know."

"Yeah," she smiled a bit. "Same here."


	12. 12-Details

Chapter 12 – Details

It was a few days later, the eleventh, and it was the day before the scheduled game. As the athletes practiced not only full games of Kreesta but also the subtleties of passing, filling their plates but not overfilling them, and keeping their racks upright, Mack fielded interview requests.

Finally, one came in that was different from the others, a request to speak with Yi'imspi about her nascent modeling career.

After practice was finished for the day, Mack approached the Calafan. "Once you get cleaned up," she inquired, "do you mind an interview?"

"But I have already spoken about Kreesta to the Tellarite press."

"This is about modeling."

"Ah, I see. I suppose I can do it."

"It's not mandatory," Mack explained.

"Understood. But this will provide more broadcasting fodder for our channel, yes?"

"Yeah, I guess it will. Tell me, Yi'imspi, do you think you wanna chuck all of this," Mack gestured around the ship, "and just take up modeling full time?"

The Calafan shook her head. "I don't think so. It was an odd experiment. Grosk and I both found it amusing."

"You took Grosk with you?"

"You said that I should have someone with me. It was good advice. Was, uh, was that wrong?"

"Not at all. But it kinda explains a few things I've been noticing," Mack stated.

"What kinds of things?"

"You're paying attention to playing Kreesta, like you're supposed to. But he, eh, he's been watching you _._ "

"Oh, my." She colored and put her hand over her mouth.

"Look, if you're, uh, if the feelings are mutual, I'm fine with it," Mack explained, "so long as you both concentrate on playing, okay?"

"Uh, thank you. I, uh, I should go talk to him." Yi'imspi departed.

=/\=

In the Engineering section of the _Enterprise-E,_ Marty, Geordi and B-4 continued working. There was a communications chime, and all three of them looked up at the same time. "Looks like it's yours," Geordi reported, looking at Marty.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks." He tapped on his communicator pin. "Madden here."

"Mister Madden," it was the captain, "see me in my Ready Room at once. Picard out."

"Huh, well, I guess I'd better be going."

=/\=

Grosk was in his quarters. "Yes?" he answered, as the door chimed.

"It's me, Yi'imspi."

"Oh. A, a moment!" He straightened up a little bit. "Come in! Come in!"

"I, uh ..."

"Sit down! Would you care for some refreshment?" he asked eagerly.

"I, I can't stay long."

"Oh."

"Um, I, er," the Calafan shifted from foot to foot. "I'm, uh, you've, uh, you're a good friend."

He sighed. "A friend. Yes, I suppose so."

"Don't, oh, please," Yi'imspi pleaded, "please don't be angry with me."

"I'm, uh, no, I'm not. See," the Imvari explained, "we are incompatible. I know this. You know it, too. It is obvious to all."

She nodded. "That's how it is."

"I know, too, that I am not attractive. You are, you are so very lovely. M'Belle is. Cilla is, too, in her own way. Daniya certainly is. As are Tag and Dathan, as well, I feel."

"So you are attracted to both males and females, Grosk?"

"Yes, and I wonder at times why not everyone is."

"I don't know," Yi'imspi admitted. "There are other species like you, yes?"

"Possibly; I do not truly know. We, may I explain? It, I do not mean to be graphic, but it might make things clearer."

"Uh, I suppose so," she said.

"I know when Mack refers to me, she says he. Crita does, and all of you do. I tend to change my clothes with the men, when it is required for me to make a choice, one way or the other. But the term he, it is misleading."

"No one wants to say it, Grosk. I mean, we all – at least, I know these are my own feelings on the matter – I feel it would be so very impolite."

"You are kind. It is not so good a pronoun, either. Our word is _mev._ It is our third-person pronoun."

"What does _mev_ translate to?"

"It's not a word that exists in Federation Standard, not really, that is. I suppose you could say one, or it, or they, but none of those words have an identical meaning." Grosk paused briefly. "We have two sets of genitalia. It is a two-part structure, at our knees. Our mating is accomplished through contact with both structures. When the same type of structure is placed together, conception is not possible, but it produces an enzyme that is necessary for conception. It is a means of birth control, to only perform this first part of the process."

"I see."

"When the dissimilar parts are placed together, if the enzyme is included, then conception can occur. Both parties then carry a child."

"Do you have any children?" she inquired.

"Not yet, no. It is an important time in an Imvari's life, when that happens. It is something to look forward to, and to plan for. I am working as an athlete so that I may save up enough for any future children I may have. I want them to have a good start in life."

"Of course, Grosk. All good parents want that."

"That is true. Have you any children?"

"I do not," she admitted.

"When – if you have any," Grosk said sincerely, "I hope they are as kind as you are."

=/\=

"Wanted to see me, sir?" Marty asked as soon as he and Picard were in the Ready Room and the door had shut.

"Yes, I've gotten a report of your actions on the surface of Kreetassa."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your former captain on the _Talos_ informs me that an Ensign Tamsin Porter has evidently lodged a complaint."

"A complaint?"

"Mister Madden, I spoke with your former commanding officer. It appears that Ensign Porter has something of a hist'ry of making unfounded accusations, when it comes to men."

"I see."

"So I suspect this is just so much noise and nothingness. Yet I am obligated to make an inquiry all the same, and to keep you on the Bridge and out of Engineering until this matter is resolved. Do you know her?"

"Not too well, sir."

"Did you see her a few days ago?" Marty nodded, so Picard continued. "Did you, eh, engage in relations with her?"

"Sir, I didn't even hold her hand. She was annoying and she threw herself at me and, I dunno, I guess the term is that she was overly eager _._ She grabbed at me."

"Were you disrobed at the time?"

"We were in a restaurant. I was fully clothed. Hell, there was a Kreetassan waiter there, who could attest to us being there. I got up pretty quickly – I didn't wanna deal with her. I don't think I've ever known anyone I was _less_ compatible with. I clicked my PADD to pay for the meals and got a beam-out. Our ship's records should confirm that."

"Understood. You may return to Engineering, but tomorrow you'll go straight to the Bridge while this matter remains under investigation."

"I understand. Thank you, sir."

=/\=

"I don't think so," Harriet Caul stated, addressing no one. She was in her office at Section 31, alone.

"All of our experiments on pulse shots. All of our experiments on radiation bands. I will not have it all end due to this cycling phenomenon. These recommendations are absurd. Our research will continue. We will get a working ionization diffuser and keep a step ahead of the Romulans." She tapped on her PADD. "Computer, create a secure channel. Send this note to our operative on the _Cookie."_

 _Ready for dictation_

"Research will be performed on Dana MacKenzie's radiation band. Strong early indicators are that she will wind up with some Mirror Universe genetics. Rig your PADD to investigate all of the athletes. The specifications are being included as an attachment to this note. Inform me of the results." She paused. "Send through secure channels, with the referenced attachment enclosed."

 _Accomplished_

"We shall see," Caul murmured, "whether Madden and his line are unique, or not."

=/\=

Mack walked down the hallway of the _Cookie,_ musing about the upcoming game and wondering, a bit, about what to write to Hobie, as she had completely fallen down on that, and owed him more than one return note. She passed by the ionization diffuser station. It was easy to miss it; it was intended to not look like anything special.

Then she stopped, and turned back. "Damn," she whispered, through clenched teeth. There was a lever and a joystick, and the off positions for both of them were the down position. However, even though they were on Tellar, and the ship was landed on the surface, and in a bay, the lever and the joystick were both up.

 ** _Someone_** ** _had tampered with the device._**


	13. 13-Blocking

Chapter 13 – Blocking

It was the twelfth, the day of the game. Mack stood in front of her players, in the holodeck. "You've all done incredibly well," she praised. "You took a game that nobody here knew really well, not even Tarjil, and you've made it your own. I will now announce the starters."

The twelve hopefuls stood and fidgeted a bit. Grosk stole a few glances at Yi'imspi.

"The starters are," Mack announced, "Tag, Cilla, Xo, M'Belle, Grosk and Tarjil. The rest of you will comprise the bench. The first two off the bench, if needed, will be Dathan and Loth. I doubt we'll need more than two subs, if any. Now," she added, "the game is at midday today. I suggest you fast until then, even the bench warmers. Just drink water, and not too much of that, okay? Any questions see me." She turned to leave. "I honestly don't recommend practicing. I think you'll be a lot happier if you just relax until it's time to go."

=/\=

As Marty started his shift that day, his PADD dinged with a priority chime. He went to the Bridge. Once he'd arrived, the device dinged again. Picard also looked up. "You should take that," suggested the captain.

"Yes, sir."

 _Subject: Investigation into Incident with Ensign Tamsin Porter_

 _A full investigation has been conducted into this matter. It has been determined that you are completely free of culpability. Advise if there are any questions._

Marty could see that the message had been cc'd to Picard. The captain smiled at him. "Looks like things are all set, sir."

"Good, now report to Engineering."

In Engineering, B-4 had some news. "I have performed initial analyses on over half of the crew."

"Analyses?" asked Marty as he walked in.

"The radiation bands, I'll bet," Geordi clarified. "B-4, don't tell me you shook hands with a few hundred crew members!"

"Incidental contact was performed in a number of ways. Handshaking was only one of the methods utilized," explained the android.

"And?" Marty inquired.

"As of this moment, the findings are that there are three persons on board the _Enterprise_ who have radiation bands of less than twenty-one."

"Commander Madden and I are two of those three, right?"

"That is correct. The third such person is Tactical Officer Michael Daniels."

"I guess we got another cousin," Marty said. "What was his number?"

 _"_ _20.9999632,"_ was the precise reply.

"So, no cousin marriage, I take it?" Marty asked.

"Affirmative. The figure further indicates that Daniels is likely one or two more generations remote from Douglas Hayes than you are, but not as many generations remote as Lieutenant Commander LaForge is."

"Shorter generations," Geordi said. "I bet you just need a few times when a child is born to parents in their twenties instead of their forties for that to happen."

"You're probably right," Marty allowed. "So I'm at seven generations, Daniels is at maybe eight or nine and you're at nine or ten."

"That is what the figures indicate," B-4 confirmed.

"Now, what do we have on our scans?" Madden inquired.

"It's the same phenomenon as we saw in the Denab System, no question," Geordi stated. "The cycling is exactly the same. I don't believe there is any conclusion we can draw except that it's all deliberately being done by some form of intelligence."

"The book I had read to me the other night, Digiorno's book," Marty told them, "it said that native Calafans can shuttle back and forth between here and the Mirror, due to ionization at a place in the Lafa System known as _Point Abic."_

"Ionization, eh?" asked LaForge.

"I'm thinking some primitive form of a diffuser," Marty opined.

"Perhaps," stated B-4, "these native Calafans have encountered the intelligence that is responsible for the cycling."

=/\=

Harriet Caul looked over reports, alone in her office. There were numerous images of Mack's ionization diffuser. "If we can get this thing to work the way we want it to, oh, wouldn't that be fantastic," she crowed to no one. "I strongly suspect that, with a few tweaks here and there, you might be used to create your own radiation band cycling. Or maybe slam the door shut on anyone trying to get in. That would be quite the achievement."

She looked over a few more documents on her PADD. " _20.9942753,_ eh? Miss MacKenzie, guess who _your_ ancestor was?"

=/\=

It was time for the game. The athletes, dressed in Black Sheep jerseys and loose sweatpants, followed Mack to the arena. The remainder of the team followed behind.

The walk to the arena was a short one. Tellarite spectators stared. As they entered the arena, an announcer could be heard over the PA system. "The challengers have arrived! The Black Sheep team is unknown in the annals of Kreesta. They have no record!"

The Black Sheep took their places at the Kreesta table, with the bench players standing off to the side. The rest of Mack's team found seats at the front of the arena. There did not seem to be assigned seating, and no one was sitting all the way up front.

The announcer continued. "Now the challengers will introduce themselves."

The Kreesta judge gave Mack a voice amplifier. "My name is Dana MacKenzie," Mack said. "From left to right, this is my team. First is Darren Shaw, and then M'Belle, and then Cilla. Next to Cilla is Tarjil." When the only Tellarite on the team was introduced and waved, the crowd cheered. "Then there's Xochar'inif and, finally, Grosk."

The announcer then introduced the Tellarite national team as the Kreesta judge took back the voice amplifier. The applause was thunderous. Mack nodded at the other team's coach. Apart from all being Tellarites, the only other defining characteristic of the opposing team was their obesity. Mack found herself thinking of them as the potato people, almost the same as the Hierarchy species. She could not shake either the image or the thought.

The Kreesta judge again approached her, as did the opposing coach this time. "I want a good game," she admonished them. "We have never seen non-Tellarites play this sport before. It is my hope that a good showing will encourage other species to try our native sport."

"We'll do that we can," Mack replied.

"Everyone knows the rules!" the judge called out. "You will start when the bell rings. Signify your readiness!"

"Ready!" Mack called out. Her counterpart did the same. The bell rang.

The two teams lined up, with plates in hand. The judge would weigh one team's plate, and then the other's, alternating as she went along. As soon as the plates were all filled, she dropped the ball into play.

It was just as they had practiced. The ball flew back and forth as they ate, and simultaneously tried to keep their racks upright. The messy food flew all around, and it became obvious rather quickly why no one had been sitting in the front rows. Professionally played Kreesta was even messier than practice had been.

Cilla, as before, was very fast, more or less inhaling her food as M'Belle and Tarjil covered her spot whenever the Klingon had to get up for refills.

Tag made a spectacular diagonal shot that skipped past two plates on the opponents' side and knocked one of the other team's middle racks down, but avoided any fouls. The Tellarite team began grumbling between mouthfuls.

M'Belle, already dirty and bedraggled, got even dirtier when the ball went right into her thofen. The broth splashed up and got all over her as the crowd roared.

As the game progressed, Cilla's lead became more pronounced. She had already finished first for the third dish, burkoo leaf, and was second when the thofen was consumed. She cleaned her plate before everyone else when it came to the fifth and sixth courses, and never looked back after that.

The crowd got louder and louder as the eighth dish was obtained, for the end was in sight. The ball was batted back and forth, faster and faster, as team members on both sides consumed the final course in the highly ritualized meal.

It was down to just Xo and two of the Tellarites on the opposing team. They were all flagging, moving almost in slow motion. When one of the remaining Tellarites was called on a foul, Xo took immediate advantage and gobbled down what he had left.

He got up, unsteady on his feet, and leaned against Cilla and Grosk, his two largest teammates.

The Kreesta judge read off her PADD. "Of the eight dishes, three were finished first by the national team, with five being finished first by the Black Sheep. There were no ties in this area. Rack retention was good on both sides, with the edge going to the national team. The challengers committed fewer fouls, and their team finished the eight dishes first overall. Totaling up the points, it is 163 for the national team and 172 for the challengers."

Mack's jaw dropped. "Holy crap, we actually won!" Yi'imspi was standing near her. Mack called out, more loudly, "We won!"

The crowd erupted as the national team stared. They were in about as much shock as Mack had been. Numerous images were snapped by press PADDs.

M'Belle immediately began to jump up and down in excitement, and Tag joined her in celebrating. "Hot dog!" he yelled. "We did it!"

Xo took a few steps, and collapsed.

=/\=

The three of them sat in Ten Forward during the lunch rush, the busiest time of the day. B-4 busied himself with getting up and making incidental physical contact with as many people as possible, including Guinan. He even served food, although it was not his job to do so. He kept his findings to himself.

Geordi and Marty sat together. Finally Marty asked, "Care to venture just how we're related?"

"Huh. Well, the numbers indicate that I'm probably around a good nine or ten generations from Hayes. You're more like seven. Do you have any really uneven generations?" Marty looked quizzical, so he added, "What I mean is, are there any families where, say, siblings are over ten years apart? That sorta thing."

"Nothing I can think of. It looked like there are a few with multiple spouses. Hayes himself had kids with two different women."

"Oh? He had an affair?"

"According to Digiorno's book, it was all consensual. But he only had two kids who had kids of their own – Joss and Neil. Joss was Beckett, Neil was Digiorno-Madden. The Beckett last name eventually reverted to Hayes, and Digiorno-Madden dropped the Digiorno part after a while. It's very possible that you come from the Hayes branch, seeing as we don't have much of a resemblance."

"That seems plausible. So, Joss and Neil were both _20.5?"_

"I'd say so," Marty speculated, "and each of those sons had a son and a daughter."

"So these four grandchildren were all _20.75,"_ Geordi declared, as B-4 returned to their table. "Anyone else in the clan?"

"Negative," the android stated. "I have now scanned all but three persons on the _Enterprise."_

"Who's left?" asked Marty.

"The captain, Doctor Crusher and Kell Perrim."

"Don't look now," Geordi said, "but there are two of your three right there." It was the doctor and the captain, approaching a nearby table.

"May I, doctor?" B-4 asked, pulling out a chair for Beverly Crusher.

She looked at him and smiled at his display of gallantry. "Why, thank you, _Day_ _–_ uh, B-4." Her smile vanished. "I am _so_ sorry."

The android touched her shoulder briefly. "It is all right. I am incapable of taking offense."

" _Still,"_ she insisted, "you are your own person. I apologize."

When their food was ready, B-4 got up and brought it over, serving her first and then the captain, who arm he also briefly touched. "Is this to your satisfaction, sir?"

"Of course," Picard said, "and there's no need to do this. Truly _._ " He motioned and Geordi and Marty came over to that table, bearing their own plates.

"You had a cousin," Beverly said to Marty as she saw them come nearer, "How is she? Sports, right?"

"Yes, and I'm pleased that you remembered," Marty replied sincerely. "She and her team are playing Kreesta on Tellar. Today, I think." But he knew it was that day – it was no guess.

"Kreesta, Kreesta," Picard murmured, "It's a rather messy business, is it not?"

Geordi clicked around on his PADD. "You were right about the day, Commander. It looks like they won." He had found an article and an image, and showed them to the others. Marty clicked his own PADD against Geordi's in order to save the article and the image for himself.

"Which one is your cousin?" Picard asked, as Yi'imspi was in the image, and she was wearing a jersey with long sleeves. This made her species virtually indistinguishable from humans.

"Over here, all the way on the left."

"A _handsome_ woman there," Picard appraised. The doctor favored him with a sidelong glance but said nothing.

"Uh, thank you?"

Marty's response caused Beverly to laugh a little. "How are you related?"

"We have a great-grandfather in common."

"Shouldn't you also have a great-grand _mother_ in common?"

Marty shook his head. "The guy remarried after his first wife died. He had kids with both of them."

"Ah," she responded. "Wesley tells me she's a good manager, and that he likes being there."

"I'll be sure to tell her the next time I speak with her."

They finished eating, and Geordi, B-4 and Marty departed. "Well?" asked Geordi while they were in the turbolift.

"The number of persons on the _Enterprise,"_ B-4 reported, "with a radiation band of less than twenty-one remains at three. The captain and the CMO are not related to you. As for Kell Perrim, my understanding is that she is fully Trill, but I will confirm that."

"Y'know," Marty said, as the doors opened into Engineering, "in order to really be thorough about this, every person with human blood should be tested."

"That would be a helluva thing to scale," Geordi stated. "How do you get several billion people to just drop everything and get tested, even if it only takes a few seconds? It's still centuries of man-hours."

"Perhaps not," B-4 speculated, "if the test can be incorporated into the transporter, or into medical scanning, it would be time spent in any event."

"Can older transporter records be tapped?" Marty inquired.

"Possibly _,_ " Geordi replied. "Huh. I think that could work!"

=/\=

Majira rushed over, although Mack got to Xo first. Mack and Grosk held the big Jem'Hadar as Majira put her hands on him. As an empathic healer, there was a chance that this would be enough to cure him. There was a glow on her hands, and it traveled up both of her arms, but then it ping-ponged around her body, a sure sign that whatever it was that was bothering him, it was for an organ which was not comparable to anything the Ikaaran doctor had.

Majira had a medical scanner with her and ran it over Xo. "I need a gurney," she said quickly. "He must be brought to my Sick Bay at once."

A pair of Tellarites approached with the requested article. Grosk and Cilla took each end of it. "Tag," Mack commanded, "stay here and, um, do whatever interviews are needed. You and M'Belle, at the very least. I gotta go."

"Right, Coach."

=/\=

Picard received their report later, while alone in his Ready Room. "Computer," he commanded, "open a secure channel to Admiral Nechayev."

 _Accomplished_

"There are three persons on board the _Enterprise_ with a radiation band of less than twenty-one. Madden you know about. The other two are my Chief Engineer and my Tactical Officer. Further, it is the team's recommendation that all persons with at least some human genetics be so tested. A practical means for doing so can come from a review of transporter records. All transporters should present a logged error when any radiation anomalies are present. Such errors are generally considered to be harmless and are not investigated further. However, the logging should remain unless a unit has been tampered with."

Picard paused for a moment. "We have already investigated our own such records for the past week. A transport by Mister Madden shows the expected deviation in radiation with the expected log marker. Such an investigation would be unobtrusive and could be very quick. For individuals who have never transported, the team suggests possibly adding a similar logging protocol to all medical scanners to be manufactured in the future. I support these proposals and recommend their adoption with no reservations. Thank you, Picard out."

=/\=

In the _Cookie_ 's Sick Bay, Majira bent over Xo as they were in a curtained-off area. "I'm going to give you a mild sedative while I continue scanning you."

"Doctor," he breathed. It seemed a difficult task for him to speak at all.

"Don't try to talk."

"No," he insisted weakly. "I know what is wrong."

"Oh?" The Ikaaran eyebrow, dark and thin, was raised a little.

"I am unable to digest."

She stared at him for a second. "I know you have a digestive system. It's on the scan. But it's horribly blocked."

"Exactly," he whispered, with great difficulty, "I am unable to continue."

"You need surgery so that I can remove the blockage," she declared.

Majira parted the curtain in order to speak with Dana. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough, I think. Is he gonna be okay?"

"We'll see. They, you see," Majira explained, "They are designed to be warriors. Ketrecel white is supposed to fulfill all of their needs. Their digestive systems are rather simple."

"He never shoulda been playing Kreesta."

"That is likely correct," Majira concurred. "Although he could have handled a few games. If I had realized how much he would be practicing, I would have put a stop to it all."

"Do you mean to say he was putting in extra time, and, I guess, Tellarite calories?"

"Most definitely. Now, I must go and see to his surgery."

"Do you need any help from anyone?" Mack asked.

"No, I'll be all right. Give me a few hours." Majira turned and Mack took it as her cue to depart.

It was not for another few hours until the Ikaaran sent word that the surgery had been a success. As for the action at the arena, Tag returned after a while and informed Mack that there were a few interviews recorded for the viewer, but that other interviews could be completed later.

Mack was pleased to find a message on her PADD, signifying that the payment draft had been transferred, along with a bonus for being victorious. She settled into bed early. It had all caught up with her. "Computer, get me Martin Madden, on the _Enterprise."_

"Connecting you now," replied the relayer.

"Hey, Mystic! I heard we won today." Marty was also alone in his quarters.

"Yeah, and we got paid, too, but I got an injured man."

"Oh?"

"The Jem'Hadar athlete, he's sick. Intestinal blockage – the doctor said it was really bad, poor fellow."

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"Oh, yeah, but I'm sure this is the last Kreesta he'll ever play. How's by you?"

"We're still scanning the Kreetassan System. Captain saw your picture today. He called you a _handsome woman."_

"Egad, that makes me feel weird."

"I'm guessing he thought it was a compliment. Oh, and I meant to tell you, Crusher told his mother he likes working with you."

"Oh, that's good. Uh, speaking of finding people attractive, uh, you find yourself a girl yet, Straight Arrow?"

He was quiet. "I, uh, we weren't compatible."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that. Lots of other fish, though, right? Look," she yawned, "it's all hitting me. But I'll see you soon. Take care."

"You, too, Mystic. Madden out." Alone in his quarters, Marty stared out of the viewing portal. "Fish in the sea and stars in the sky. I don't want any of 'em. No one but you, Mystic."


	14. 14-The French Horn

Chapter 14 – The French Horn

The next day, Wesley received the following message on his PADD –

 _Wes –_

 _Exciting times are afoot here at Starfleet Academy! The big-time suits are here. It's all of the flag officers and the head of Section 31. At least, they tell us she's the head of the Section._

 _Plus there are all of these really uncomfortable-looking guys suddenly hanging around. I'm guessing they're either Section or Security. I don't know – can you be both?_

 _Anyway, it's all the same to me. I just play for whomever, whatever, whenever. The French horn doesn't care how many people are listening, or who they are, or what they do. So I try to get Zen about it and act that way. I admit it's sometimes not so easy. But I'm okay with this. It's not like they'd ever want me for anything._

 _My job will probably end up being in a band somewhere. That reminds me, how is your job? I saw the delayed broadcast of that Kreesta game. It's a shame that Jem'Hadar got sick. I didn't think they could eat at all. I guess most people watching didn't know that. Now, after seeing him collapse like that, I bet he shouldn't have tried it at all._

 _But enough about all that! Tell me when I can see you! I've got more stuff I can play for you. We got a big batch of pre-World War III music, and we'll play some for the suits today._

 _That reminds me – must dash!_

 _See you soon._

 _–_ _Lakeisha_

=/\=

At Starfleet Academy, Harriet Caul was sitting in the visitors' bunk she'd been assigned to. She tapped a few keys on her PADD. "Computer, access Academy transporter records back to 2157."

 _Authorization?_

"Caul Tau Sigma 305. Search for all instances of radiation anomalies, either large or small. Compile results and present in list form."

 _List parameters?_

"Date and time, point of origin or destination, name of person or persons being transported, and any distinguishing designations, along with precise radiation band calculations, to the seventh decimal place."

 _Working_

"Approximate time until task completion?"

 _Preliminary estimates are often inaccurate. The current preliminary estimate is four hours and twenty minutes._

She tapped on a communicator pin on her top. "Caul to Admiral Alynna Nechayev, she is currently visiting Starfleet Academy."

"Connecting you now," announced the relayer.

"The concert isn't for another," Caul glanced at a wall chronometer, "sixteen minutes. Let's meet outside. Tell me if you've had any results from your investigations."

"I shall be there. Nechayev out."

=/\=

On the _Enterprise_ , Marty, B-4 and Geordi continued working. "Has the computer finished compiling its analysis of any transporter records with radiation anomalies?" Marty inquired.

"I'm just getting it now," Geordi reported. "B-4," he stated, "Can you filter out any data on Calafans, and set it aside?"

"Aye," B-4 answered, setting about accomplishing the task.

"One area we might also wanna check," Geordi suggested, "is the Typhon Expanse. It's a naturally-occurring site of temporal and spatial anomalies."

"Oh?" Marty inquired.

"We were there eleven years ago," Geordi explained.

"Got it. Let's keep that in mind, no matter what's added to our list of places to check out," Marty suggested.

"The computer has finished compiling," B-4 announced. "It appears that there have been no other persons, either transporting to, or from, the _Enterprise-E,_ who had an anomalous radiation band."

Marty's face fell. "Damn."

"However," the android continued, "the transporter records of the _Enterprise-D_ have yielded one name."

"Who is it?" Geordi asked. He was almost as excited as Marty.

"Her name is **_Lilienne Charlotte Hayes,_** " B-4 stated.

"A Hayes, imagine that," Geordi stated.

"What can you tell us about her?" Marty inquired.

"She is evidently a civilian," B-4 explained. "She is a botanist, and was visiting Keiko Ishikawa O'Brien a year ago. They knew each other somehow."

"Anything else?" Geordi asked eagerly.

"She was born in 2309. Her current residence is," the android checked a record, "Lafa II."

"Holy cow," Marty stated. "Is there anything else?"

"I have no further information," B-4 said, "I apologize."

"No, that's all right," said Marty. "Family's just stepping outta the woodwork."

"I took the liberty," Geordi added, "of talking to my father. Of course I didn't tell him why, but I asked about our family tree. Of course my sister must have this band, but who knows if he's the carrier, or it if was my mother?"

"What'd you find out?" asked Marty.

"Not as much as I'd have liked," the engineer admitted. "My mother's maiden name was Alvera. But beyond my grandparents, my father doesn't know any names. As for my dad, his parents were Justin LaForge and Eleanor Reed. Her folks were Stuart and Susan Reed. I've got a pair of cousins named Reed – Tina and Kevin. Well, Tina is O'Connor now. No, wait, that's wrong. Kevin is a second cousin. Tina is his aunt. So she's what, a first cousin?"

"I think so," Marty offered. "I admit the relationships can get confusing. But that makes no sense. See, in Digiorno's book, she says there are three in the generation right after Doug Hayes – I mean; three who have kids. There were a total of six. But of the ones who became parents, one is Beckett. One is Digiorno-Madden, and we know he's related to me. But the other one, Reed, he's not Doug Hayes's kid at all."

"So he can't have the radiation band issue. It's either some other Reed family, or the radiation issue happens in some other way," Geordi said. "It might even be on my mother's side, like I said."

"So as of now," Marty said, "we only know of six living people with the band issue."

"Six? How are you figuring that?" asked Geordi.

"The three of us on board," Marty explained, "Lilienne Hayes, my cousin Dana, and your sister."

"Plus maybe my father," Geordi added.

"There is an equal chance that the seventh person is your mother," B-4 clarified, "if she is alive."

=/\=

Caul and Nechayev met as planned. "We have some information," Nechayev stated. "There are two others on the _Enterprise-E_ who carry the slightly smaller radiation band," she explained who those people were as they walked around the Academy's grounds.

"How interesting that these are officers," Caul speculated. "Maybe these people are at some sort of an advantage."

"Hard to say," Nechayev said, "considering as the captain, for instance, is not one of them. But it's not a notion devoid of merit."

=/\=

Lakeisha spent her last few moments before the concert in the wings of the Academy's main theatre. The theatre was named after a fellow who'd been the pilot of the first Warp Five starship. She shrugged. Whatever the connection that guy had had to the performing arts, it was now utterly lost – if there had been a connection in the first place.

She waited, with the other members of the brass section of the Academy Orchestra, in the wings of the _Travis Mayweather Memorial Theatre._

=/\=

"Oh! We're going to be late!" Caul exclaimed.

"It would be bad form, seeing as this concert is in our honor," Nechayev concurred. "Have you any Section candidates in this year's class?" she asked as they hurried along.

"Possibly," Caul replied, a little cagey. "Right now, I'm searching for anyone who can solve major engineering puzzles."

"Indeed," replied Nechayev, "someone out there – in addition to Wesley Crusher and perhaps our own operative – must be able to decipher what it was that Szish was inventing."

=/\=

Szish had been a Gorn inventor. He had also been the previous owner of the _Cookie._ The ship was full of strange devices. Wesley – despite his immense talents – did not know the specifics on over half of them.

At least he and – unbeknownst to him – Section 31 knew about the _Cookie_ 's ionization diffuser.

But any other devices, whether they were for replication, defense, medical care, propulsion, communications or something else entirely, no one knew. Szish, being a dead Gorn, likely killed for the unknown wonders of technology on the _Cookie_ , was telling no tales.

The Section operative on board the _Cookie_ had, as a part of that mission, the task of determining what Wesley knew, and whether the Section could replicate any of that.

=/\=

"I wish I knew how Hayes was related," Marty said. "Other than the name, it's hard to tell. I mean Lilienne Hayes, that is."

"Huh, well, how far are you from Old Man Doug?" asked Geordi.

Marty thought for a moment and checked his PADD. "Melissa and Doug had Neil. Neil and Ines had Martin. Martin and Tanya had Dino. Dino had two wives, Kirsten and Phoebe. Dino and Kirsten had Pete. Pete also has two wives; he and Linda had Doug. Doug and Sheilagh had Tom. Tom and Ellen had me. So maybe she's from some other branch, because we're all Madden or Digiorno-Madden, when you go back to Dino's first marriage."

B-4 stated, "Then you are the great times five grandson of Douglas Jay Hayes Beckett."

"Right; and I bet my cousin Dana is another great times five. She's from Pete's other wife's line. She was Elizabeth. She and Pete had Astrid. Astrid and Stuart have Richard. Richard and Laura have Mystic – er, Dana. Pete is the most recent common ancestor."

"I don't seem to be related to any of those," Geordi sighed. "When was Pete born?"

"Without looking," Marty said, "I'm guessing the middle of the last century or so. I barely remember him. Dana doesn't remember him at all."

"Since this Lilienne Hayes is over a decade older than you are," Geordi speculated, "maybe she's at the great times four level."

"Maybe," Marty concurred. "I know we keep going over this, and I know Old Man Doug had more than one kid. But it's still a ball of confusion."

=/\=

The flag officers and Harriet Caul were seated at the front of the theatre. The Academy's musical director, a Xindi sloth, addressed the assembly, "Ladies, gentlemen, and multi-gendered and non-gendered species, welcome to today's concert. Today, we are performing selections from composers from the latter half of the twentieth century. These will include purely instrumental and vocal selections. The emphasis today is on brass instrumentation, and on bass. Our first selection is a wholly instrumental work. It is the overture from an opera called _Tommy._ Be sure to listen for guitars, drums and the French horn in particular." She turned to the players and smiled as she began to conduct.

=/\=

"Are you feeling all right?" Mack asked Xo. They were in the _Cookie_ 's Sick Bay.

"Much better, thank you. Majira is a truly skilled physician."

Majira, hearing her name, came over. "I had a very cooperative patient. But no more Kreesta for you."

"I do not object to your restriction," agreed the Jem'Hadar.

Once she'd departed in order to feed the Derellian bats, Mack spoke. "I'm a little miffed at you, truth be told."

"Oh?"

"You needed to tell me when you were becoming uncomfortable. I would have had someone else start. Hell, I wouldn't have kept you in the final twelve."

"Yet we won the game," he stated.

"You almost died, in case you hadn't noticed," she retorted sharply.

"Yet I did not."

Mack was now infuriated. "You need to understand something." She took a deep breath in order to try to regain her composure. "This was a big risk you took. It turned out to be a thoroughly unnecessary one. I appreciate the win, but we were gonna be paid either way."

"Yet this is more."

"I will not have you risking your life so that we can get a few more credits." She paused. "Another thing – if we have to play this again, I can't use you. I need to pick up someone else, maybe Inshar."

"You already have a full bench."

"I still have to add another person in order to keep it full. That last person, whether it's Inshar or someone else, that person really isn't gonna be that well-trained. It's not a huge deal, but it's not an absence of time and effort that are gonna be needed."

He thought for a moment. "May I explain something to you?" She nodded, so he continued. "I cannot eat with you, for the most part. I do not enjoy the same entertainments. My work out schedule and specifics, they, too, differ. I see the rest of the team enjoying themselves, yet I cannot take part. It can be difficult at times."

"I see."

"I, Coach, I just want to fit in."

She sighed and shook her head. "Just, just don't get injured, or lose yourself in the process, okay? Look, a lot of us are gonna have leave. I'll be visiting the _Enterprise._ I think Wes will take a trip to Starfleet Academy. I know Crita will be entertaining her parents. Can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Help Daniya and Majira keep the boat secure, okay?"

"I will do anything for you, Coach."

=/\=

Once the concert had concluded, the musical director announced, "Now I would like to turn the program over to Admiral Harriet Caul, the head of Section 31."

Harriet got up and made her way to the podium. "Thank you. I recognize," he stated, "that this announcement, and my speaking at this particular venue, they are both somewhat unexpected. But that's the Section for you. We thrive on the unexpected."

There was a silence as they hung on her every word.

"Zefram Cochrane spoke of going where no man has gone before. But a lot of our galaxy has now been explored. There is, to be sure, a significant chunk that remains a mystery. Many of you will be tackling those mysteries. Your engineering classmates, many of them will be working on improving propulsion systems. Where no man has gone before may very well turn out to soon be the Andromeda Galaxy, or even Triangulum. I hope that will occur in your lifetimes."

She paused to let that sink in before continuing. "There is another place we can explore. And that is other dimensions."

=/\=

Crita received a message on her PADD.

 _Expect us tomorrow._

It was from her parents. She gulped. It all seemed to be happening far too quickly.

=/\=

"For you, intrepid explorers," Caul continued, "there are many great rewards. But there are also many dangers. The job of Section 31 is to minimize the risks and also to quell the dangers before they become too powerful. In that way, those who wish to explore, can do so more freely."

She made as if to leave the podium and then seemed to think better of it, for she added, "I am available if any of you wish to … chat. The work is complex, and it can be frustrating at times. But it is also very rewarding. Thank you."


	15. 15- The Match

Chapter 15 - The Match

Daranaean white fur flew. "Crita! Slow down! You are a blur!" M'Belle called to her roommate.

"I, oh, dear! Everything must be perfect!" she stopped for a second, and sniffed the air. "Tag needs to shower! The sheets in Cilla's bunk are dirty! I must tell them!"

"Shh, shh, calm down. Cilla's bunk is on the other side of the ship. Tag, I am certain, needs no advice on basic hygiene after exercising."

Crita flung herself onto her bed and began to cry. "This is no good! They will be so very cross with me! I will not fetch a good price at all!"

 _"_ _Price?"_

Crita looked up, her eyes streaming and red. "Price, yes," she confirmed, more calmly. "Third caste Daranaean women like me are sold to our husbands, as are the second caste women."

 _"_ _Sold?"_ M'Belle was still not getting it.

"Yes," Crita admitted. "A third caste female such as I am, we are purchased by our husbands. But it is at least a bit more modern now."

"Oh? How so?"

"I am being given a choice of three. I can only pray that one of them is kind. Oh!" She became animated again, looking around their bunk, "they will be cross with me if they find my living quarters in such disarray!" She began shoving her possessions either into the closet or the recycling chute.

"Here, let me help you," M'Belle volunteered. Together, they folded up the pad that Crita slept on and tucked away M'Belle's hammock so that it would not be in the way.

They were in the middle of tossing dirty laundry down the chute when there was a communications chime. "Oh!" Crita dropped what she was holding – a pair of M'Belle's undergarments – and froze for a moment. "Whatever shall I do?"

"Go greet them. I've got this. Don't worry." She took back her undergarments.

Crita's voice was trembling as she answered the communications chime. "Y-yes?"

It was Tag. "There are two people here to see you. They say they're your parents."

"I, I will be right there." She smoothed her fur in front of the room's mirror and then realized that the communications link was still open. "Uh, Crita out."

At the _Cookie_ 's main hatch, Tag looked at a pair of very furry people who were clearly Daranaeans. "Uh, she's coming."

"Yes," replied Seramus. "Are you the captain of this vessel?"

"Uh, no, sir."

Linatella came over. "Can you get him?"

"Uh, her, ma'am."

"Yes," Linatella waved a little, " _her."_

Tag hit a communicator wall unit. "Mack? We got company."

"Yes?"

"It's Crita's folks."

"Did you tell her they're there?" Mack asked.

"Yes, but they wanna talk to you, too."

"I'll be right there; MacKenzie out."

Mack and Crita walked quickly toward the main hatch together. "Oh, Dana!" Crita moaned. "I am so _very_ frightened."

"What's the matter?" Dana stopped immediately and faced the fluffy woman. "Are you afraid of your own parents?"

"No, no, it is not that at all. It is that I am afraid of the, the candidates. I fear they will _all_ be awful _._ I know that my parents would never try to hurt me, or to situate me poorly. But I also know that they are most anxious for me to wed."

"But if you don't like any of these three guys, you'll get other chances, right?"

"No, Dana, these are my _only_ choices."

Mack squeezed a fluffy shoulder, and then ended up hugging her friend. "It'll, ask any of us here. We'll help you with this. I swear we will."

"I, I thank you. We had best go. I cannot keep them waiting."

When they arrived, the two Daranaeans were standing around, looking a little peeved. "Daughter," called Seramus, "come here, child."

"Yes, Father."

They hugged and she briefly licked his face very slightly, the tiniest of kisses. He appraised her. "You are thinner than when we last saw you, child. Is she not thinner, Linatella?"

Linatella came over, and Crita dutifully embraced and kissed her as well. "Perhaps she is a little thinner, but not so bad. Child, you will show me your quarters and we will change your clothing while your father speaks with Miss MacKenzie."

"Yes, Mother." They departed.

Seramus turned to Mack. "You are the owner of this vessel?"

"Yes, I am."

"Have you a meeting room?"

"Sure, there's an observation lounge on the middle deck. Or do you have a particular purpose in mind? There's also a holodeck," she offered.

"This observation lounge can hold seven people?"

"More than that."

"Good," he allowed, "we shall require it, in about ten minutes."

Mack smiled a little. "It's, uh, you're in luck. I'm sure it's free. But a little notice would've been appreciated."

He ignored that remark. "You will attend."

"Really?"

"The three suitors will arrive in ten minutes. You will represent Crita's sisters."

"Uh, for what?" Mack asked.

"For her wedding."

=/\=

M'Belle had, as promised, cleaned their quarters as thoroughly as the limited time had permitted. "Where is your best tunic?" Linatella asked.

"Uh, a moment, Mother."

Linatella turned to M'Belle. "You are a Caitian?"

"Yes, I am."

"The humans sometimes get our two species confused. I, myself, do not see it."

"Me, neither," M'Belle agreed.

Crita took the tunic to the little bathroom in their quarters as the other two women talked. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she frowned. "I am no great beauty," she sighed as she changed. She walked out of the bathroom. "Well?"

"That is good, child. We should trim your whiskers, too. Is there a precision cutter on this vessel?"

"Majira may have one," M'Belle speculated.

"She's the team doctor, Mother."

"Oh, then we should pay a visit, child."

=/\=

 _"_ _Wedding?"_ Dana was incredulous. "Does Crita know about this?"

"She is aware that this is to happen, yes."

"What if," Mack asked, "she doesn't pick any of your three choices?"

Seramus leveled his gaze at her. "If you have been poisoning her mind against our ways, I will be very cross with you."

"Oh?"

"Do you understand," Seramus's tone was a little harsh, "that I have influence on Daranaea? Your team could play there. I could arrange things easily. Or," he added, "I could make it so that you never get to play there."

"I won't compromise my friendship with your daughter for money," Dana declared. "There are plenty of other places to play. We don't need _you."_

He glared at her, and then began to laugh. "You speak like a male Daranaean. Our females are taught to be far meeker than that."

"Well, I'm no Daranaean."

=/\=

In Sick Bay, Majira wielded the precision cutter. "What am I doing?" the Ikaaran inquired.

"You will trim her whiskers in the graduated style," Linatella explained. "Like mine, see? The upper whiskers are short, and then they get a bit longer as you go lower. See, like me."

Majira studied Linatella and put her hand on the elder Daranaean's cheek for a second. A glow spread from Linatella's face and the back of her head, up Majira's arm and to Majira's head. "What is happening?" Linatella asked, in some alarm.

"You have a disease or an injury, somewhere on or in your head," Majira stated as the glow traveled back down her arm and back to Linatella.

"Mother, are you ill?"

"Child, I did not wish to concern you."

"I am concerned now _,_ Mother. Majira, whatever is the matter?"

"I can't be certain without a thorough examination. But you said you were in a hurry. So, after your meeting, maybe?"

The two Daranaeans looked at each other. "Your health is more important, Mother."

"I – yes, you are correct, child. You will not tell Seramus?" she asked Majira.

"You have full medical confidentiality," the doctor explained as she ran a handheld scanner over Linatella.

"You as well, kindly vow to me that you will not tell my husband," Linatella asked M'Belle, who had been quiet.

"Of course," agreed the Caitian, "but why not tell him?"

"Understand, please," Linatella said, "but the women of my world – there were centuries when the women of my caste were taught to be meek and mild. We are a bit more assertive now, but it is still the preferred feminine standard on Daranaea for us to be quiet and to bear our troubles without concerning our husbands or interrupting their lives unnecessarily."

"But it's not an unnecessary interruption," M'Belle stated.

"You are likely correct. My husband is an understanding man. But, you see, his life is stressful. He is a successful and prominent man of business. I have always been taught to not bother my husband with the trivial details of my life."

Majira looked up from her scanner. "This is no trivial detail. It is not very big, and I suspect I have shrunken it already, but I was not completely successful, and you will require further medical intervention and care."

"Mother, what is this?" Crita's tone was back to being frantic.

"Will you tell her, or will I?" Majira asked.

"Child, I have a brain tumor."

=/\=

As they spoke, the three suitors arrived at the main hatch. One was grey and seemed to be older, another one had a red and white patched face, and the third was brown in color.

"We are ready," Seramus smiled at his three guests. "Shall we?"

"Uh, sure," Mack said. She spoke into her wrist communicator. "Crita, we're going to the observation lounge. Your, uh, three beaus are here."

"Under-understood; Crita out." Crita turned to Linatella. "Mother, I know you have not approved of my working. I suppose I can understand that. But I hope you understand that I need to know if you are ever ill. I love you; I only wish to help you whenever you are in need or are in distress."

"You are a good daughter, even as you do things that are," Linatella seemed to be casting about for a suitable adjective, "unconventional _._ "

"Can you cure my mother?"

"It'll take a while. If you want to, it can wait until you're done today. Or I can talk to your own regular physician if you would prefer that."

Linatella looked at the Ikaaran. "Crita should have her friends with her. If you wish to come, and if the Caitian wishes to, then I have no objections."

"Oh." Crita's face fell. "I, uh, yes, Majira, please come." She sighed.

"You should be happy, child."

"I, I suppose so, Mother."

"What's going on?" Majira asked as they began to walk out of Sick Bay.

"Having my friends with me, it means," Crita sighed a little, "that it is intended that I marry today."

=/\=

There were nine people in the observation lounge – the six Daranaeans, M'Belle, Dana and Majira.

"I will now present your suitors," Seramus declared. "First," he indicated the male with greyed fur, "is my business associate, Varus. Varus is wealthy. You have met his wives; they are older than you are. You would be his second third caste wife; the initial one died last year, as you know."

"My wives tell me that they would accept you," Varus stated.

"Oh, uh, thank you," Crita averted her eyes.

"Are we finished?" Varus asked. "We could be finished now, yes? It would be, the process, it would be far more efficient."

"I, Father, I have not met the other two suitors yet," Crita said meekly. "Would it, perhaps, would it not be more polite to meet them?"

Varus was obviously Seramus's favorite. Seramus said, "Efficiency is, it is important."

"Oh, Seramus!" Linatella exclaimed. "This is for the remainder of the child's life! Do not rush her. Honestly!"

"I, you are correct," Seramus conceded. He nodded at the brown fellow. "This is Kytharis."

Linatella elbowed her daughter. "Is he not handsome? He is the son of a Prime Wife, you know."

"Yes, Mother, he is handsome. That is true."

"My Prime Wife is a great beauty," Kytharis sniffed. "My secondary is very nearly as lovely-smelling. But my Prime Wife has turned out to be a delicate creature, particularly after her last pregnancy. How much can you lift?"

"I, I do not know."

"I will require cleaning, and cooking, and child care," Kytharis told her. "My Prime Wife is useless in most areas now."

M'Belle and Majira exchanged a quick look. It seemed as if Kytharis only planned for Crita to be his servant.

"Our Crita has been trained, and she will be fine for all traditional purposes," Linatella said. "She could step up, if your Prime Wife can no longer even care for her own children. But it is too much if your secondary will not assist." Imperiously, she added, "Seramus and I will not agree to this."

"No," her husband agreed, "we will not. These are not the tasks for our daughter to perform by herself."

There was some uncomfortable silence. Dana broke it. "Maybe Crita should meet her third suitor, right?"

"Agreed," Linatella said as Seramus glanced at her.

"I, it is agreed." He nodded at the fellow with the red and white face. "This is Senjarus; he is your kinsman, on your mother's side."

Senjarus bowed. "My Prime Wife and secondary and I are anxious to, to get to know you, Crita."

Crita nodded. "I, I see."

"What is your function on the ship?" asked Senjarus.

"I run Communications."

"Oh, my brother's company, they make the, the switches."

"Oh, I see," Crita paused. "That is not all that I do."

"Child," Seramus cautioned, "perhaps you can discuss that another time."

"There is no reason to rush this," Linatella insisted. She looked Majira squarely in the eye, and added, "What we may see as, as trivial, perhaps it is of some importance to Crita. Seramus," she was insistent, "this is our daughter's life that we are talking about."

"I – yes," Seramus allowed, "proceed."

"Tell me, if you like, what else it is that you do," encouraged Senjarus.

"I paint a little."

"Paint? May I see some of your work?"

"It is on this level. There is a mural."

Senjarus smiled. "I am no connoisseur of fine art. But I would like to see it all the same. You can tell me if I am failing to properly appreciate it."

Crita turned. "May we, Father? Uh, all are invited along, of course."

"By all means," Seramus answered, after Linatella had glanced over at him.

They all walked to the running track. Linatella leaned over to her husband. "I have something I must tell you, as soon as we are finished here."

"I see," he replied, "is this why you are behaving a little differently?"

"It is."

"You have been insisting that Crita be the one to decide. You were not doing so previously. It is probably better this way."

"I think it is," she replied, "but I mean no disrespect to you and your opinions."

"I do not see it as disrespectful," Seramus answered. "You are correct; it is best for Crita to be happy and well cared for. I think," He added very quietly, "we can agree that at least one of the suitors," he subtly indicated the haughty Kytharis, "is thoroughly unsuitable." His third caste wife nodded her agreement.

The entourage stopped in front of the still-unfinished mural. "It is incomplete," sniffed Varus. Kytharis seemed to be checking his PADD, bored with the proceedings.

Senjarus looked at the colors on the wall. "Where is this natural wonder? Or is it fashioned wholly from your imagination?"

"It is an Earth geological feature," Crita explained, "and it is called the Big – I mean the _Grand,_ Canyon."

"What are these parts?" Senjarus asked about the parts meant to look like a film.

"It is a gift for Dana here. See, when she runs past, it appears like an animation. But it is as yet incomplete." She looked down.

"I think I can see it, yes," Senjarus intimated to her, "I am but a soldier. I understand tactics and fighting, of course, but we have many flags, not only of our provinces on Daranaea, but also of the allied worlds of the Federation. They can be very beautiful, almost like flowers made from cloth, I think. But real flowers are so sweet-smelling much of the time. I feel that is better. Can you show me, for I barely know beauty? At least, I suspect I do not know it as you do. Can you show me which are the most beautiful flowers?"

"I suppose I can teach you," Crita said shyly.

"You need to finish the mural, you know," he said.

"I, I would like to."

"My Prime Wife and my secondary were unable to come with me," Senjarus explained, "but I think perhaps the best thing for us to do, would be for us to, to agree to wed. But we would not do so right away, all right? You would be able to complete the mural. You and my Prime Wife and my secondary could maintain a correspondence and become a bit acquainted that way, yes? Then, when the ship comes to Daranaea, you could be finished with the mural. You could meet my Prime Wife, and my secondary, and then we could wed."

"That is highly irregular," Varus complained.

Seramus interjected, "No, it is all right. It is a compromise. Will that be acceptable to all?"

All eyes turned to Crita. "When would we be on Daranaea next?" she inquired.

"How long do you require in order to finish your artwork?" Linatella asked.

"A few months – maybe four, I believe."

"I will speak with my contacts," Seramus promised, "and get you a game in five or six months, all right?"

"Then yes," Crita said, and Senjarus awkwardly put his arm around her. "I will wed you, Senjarus."

The other two suitors departed, and Seramus and Linatella retreated to Sick Bay with Majira, in order to discuss Linatella's condition.

Mack and M'Belle looked at the new couple. "We can leave, y'know," Mack offered.

"It would be most proper," Senjarus explained, "if we had chaperones."

"M'Belle," Mack said to the Caitian, "come look at this detail work here." They bent over closely at the mural, looking away from the two Daranaeans.

Then, a little awkwardly, but with a great deal of hope and promise, Senjarus and Crita quickly and quietly touched hands and then kissed.


	16. 16-Unfair

Chapter 16 – Unfair

It was two days later, and the _Cookie_ was in position. It had hit a sweet spot; close enough to Kreetassa, Earth and Kronos that it was possible to get to any of those three worlds with comparatively little effort.

Members of the Black Sheep team hopped on freighters, or took shuttles, or simply beamed to closer outposts for a little R and R. A number of them went to a nearby Star base in order to wait for transport to their final intended destinations.

Harriet Caul and Alynna Nechayev were at that same Star base, waiting to arrange transportation elsewhere. While they waited, they checked out the wares at a bazaar on board. "Excuse me," Nechayev said to Caul, when she spotted the operative, "I've got something I must do."

"Uh, certainly," Caul replied, seeing a display of silk scarves at the bazaar. "I like this one with the green and the, I think these are lotus blossoms?" she asked the proprietor, a Xindi Reptilian, as Nechayev blended in with the crowd.

"Follow and say nothing; even those who know about you cannot know you are here," she murmured to the operative as soon as they were close to each other. The slightest nod was the sole indicator that her command was at all acknowledged.

There were several stalls at the market, and one was for selling Andorian red bat. Nechayev got behind it with her associate. "Give me what you've got."

The operative nodded slightly again and produced a data stick. The stick changed hands as Nechayev swapped it for a stick of her own. "Keep up the good work," she whispered before blending back in with the crowd and rejoining Caul.

Wesley went to Earth, in order to visit Lakeisha, a trip that was to take an additional day. Mack went to Kreetassa in order to be able to beam to the _Enterprise-E_ and see Marty.

Majira, Xo and Daniya stayed aboard the _Cookie_ and kept watch.

=/\=

On the _Enterprise-E,_ Marty fretted and paced in one of the transporter rooms. "Commander," Geordi said to him, "you'll wear out the carpets."

"Oh, uh, sorry." He temporarily stilled himself.

"I do not believe," B-4 opined, "that that is possible, given Ms. MacKenzie's stated time of arrival, Commander Madden's estimated weight, the tread of his boots, and the mean speed of his locomotion."

"It's just an expression, B-4," Geordi explained. As Marty resumed pacing, Geordi asked, "Are you nervous?"

"Uh, not exactly. It's more that we just haven't seen each other in around twenty years. The whole thing feels strange."

"Well, I'm sure it'll be fine," Geordi assured him. There was a communications chime, and he answered it. "Yes, we're standing by." He checked an instrument. "Accepting the pattern buffer now."

There was a shimmer and Mack appeared on one of the transporter pads, holding a duffle bag. "Damn, I've never liked those things," she muttered under her breath. Then she looked up and smiled. "Oh my God. Oh hell, Marty!"

"Marty?" Geordi quietly repeated, smiling.

"Yeah, we're in the same room, Myst – er, Dana." He came over and enveloped her in a tight embrace, which she returned with equal vigor.

"I, uh, we should go, B-4," Geordi stated.

Marty and Mack released each other. "Before you go," Marty said, "I'd like to introduce you to my cousin, Dana MacKenzie. Dana, this is Geordi LaForge and B-4." After a moment's pause, he added, "They're, um, they're my friends."

Mack shook their hands. "See, Marty? I told ya to make friends." She smiled at them and then addressed Geordi directly. "You're friends with the Boy Wonder, too, am I right?"

"I do not know this euphemism," B-4 stated.

"I mean Wes Crusher," she explained.

"Oh, yeah! How is he?" Geordi inquired.

"He's off to see his girl. It is, let's just say, a _very_ big deal," she intimated.

"Ah," Geordi replied. "I bet his mother would really love to hear that."

"Heh, well, I dunno. He should probably tell her himself, I'm thinking," Mack stated. "So, where can a girl freshen up around here?"

"I'll take you to guest quarters," Marty offered. "I got you a spot on Deck 9."

"Lead the way," she replied. "It was nice meeting you fellows."

Once they had departed, Geordi turned to B-4. "Well?"

"It is confirmed," stated the android, "Dana MacKenzie has a radiation band of 20.9942753."

"So she's a descendant of Old Man Doug Hayes, too," Geordi clarified. "Hello, Cousin."

The guest quarters on Deck 9 were Spartan but adequate to Mack's needs. She put her duffle down. "Well, you can't say it's fussy," she commented.

"Yeah, I guess not. Damn, Mystic, it's amazing to see you, but y'know; you did not have to pack anything. Replicators, remember?"

"I know," Mack said, "but, heh, it's a vestige of having been in stir for so long. You get used to carrying your home with you, like a turtle. At least this room's bigger than that, although I do have to say, it's not too much more furnished." She walked over to the viewing portal. "At least there's a window."

He stood behind her and looked out at Kreetassan space with her. "All the attractions," he muttered.

"So," she continued looking out at Kreetassa, "what's new? And I mean, _really_ new. You told me you'd, uh; you had a date, right?"

"I thought we'd talked about that, Mystic. It didn't work out. We were far from compatible."

"Oh, sorry; I've had a ton of stuff on my mind lately. It's not a lack of interest in your life, y'know." She turned around and smiled at him. "Anything else shakin'?"

"Uh, yeah, actually," he replied. "Do, um, did you ever talk to your folks about – do you recall – about our family tree?"

"Family tree?"

"Yeah," Marty confirmed. "See, it's kinda complex in some ways. In others, I imagine it's not, not so much."

"Now you're speaking in riddles." She opened up a drawer and began unloading the contents of her duffle into it.

"Well, um," he cast about a bit for what to say, "there's, uh," his PADD dinged and he stopped. "Hang on a sec." He found a message from Geordi.

 _Dana MacKenzie has a radiation band of 20.9942753._

He looked up. "Okay; I've got the all-clear, so I can do this."

"Do what?" she asked, shutting the drawer.

"Hand me your PADD for a sec." She complied, and he clicked it against his own. "There. That's a book, called _The Human Pioneers of Lafa II."_

"I've got an athlete from the Lafa System," Mack said. "But she's a native. Why do we, uh, care about the humans who were there first?"

"They're related to us," Marty explained, "and there's, there's more, Mystic. We're, um, we're kinda special."

"I don't understand."

He thought about how to explain things before continuing. "There's, uh, there's limits on what I can tell you. But you've been tested, so I'm at least allowed to give you the book."

"Tested? What's going on, _Straight Arrow_?"

"It, it goes back, through our common ancestor, Pete Madden, our great-grandfather. His, uh, his own great-great-grandfather was a guy named Doug Beckett. Uh, Hayes."

"What?"

"He was a kind of immigrant, see. He came here, and he wanted to leave a difficult and violent past behind him, so he changed his name. He sorta, um, he founded a dynasty. You were, well, it was a test and it confirmed that you're a part of it, just like I am."

"That's kinda cool. And this is all rather fascinating, but what does this have to do with the price of tea in China, Marty?"

"We, we're, we might be important, Mystic. Heh, it turns out we're even remotely related to LaForge, the guy you met today."

"Huh, that's kinda interesting," she allowed. She looked at him closely. "This is really affecting you, Marty."

"Yeah, I, uh, I guess it is, Mystic. But, uh, I want you to know," he took her hand, an act that made him tremble a bit, "there's just, there's something about, about us. About you _._ About, um, about you and me."

"I get the feeling we're not just talking family tree anymore."

He nodded vigorously. "It's been so long. While you were, you were gone, I, I didn't give up, y'know?"

"I know, and I appreciate it, Marty."

"It wasn't just because you're family or because the whole thing was so goddamned unjust. It was, it was, it was also about, about _you,_ Mystic."

"Do you remember?" she asked, "When you were, you were, like, I think you were a few months shy of twenty-six, eh?"

"You had turned eighteen." He smiled at her, a little shyly, it seemed. "Everything we'd ever waited for, it was everything we'd ever dreamed of."

"Yeah, until people walked in on us," Mack's tone was a little bitter.

"No one's gonna walk in now."

There was dead quiet between them, and it seemed to stretch far longer than the few seconds it really was. Mack could feel her and Marty's palms getting sweaty. Her lower jaw trembled. "But then there are those, those other things. They, they haven't changed, though, right? It's, it's all about the family tree, about how you and me, we're, we are too closely related. So it's not allowed, dammit."

"Right," he sighed, and started to turn away a bit.

"I won't tell if you won't."

=/\=

As Geordi and B-4 returned to Engineering, there was a communications chime. The engineer answered it. "Yes? LaForge here."

"Lieutenant Commander," it was the captain, "I should like for you and the team to begin compiling your findings. We will be departing from this system soon."

"Yes, sir," Geordi answered. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Would it be possible to get transporter records for some of the other ships in the area? These would be records for as long as the ships have been in operation. I think we could get some really useful data from them."

"Ah, yes," Picard remembered the radiation band issue, "I'll contact the captain of the _Talos_ and any other ships nearby. Eventually, I suppose we should look at all ships' records, but this should provide a start for your research."

"Thank you, sir; LaForge out."

=/\=

The first kiss probably should have been gentle and slow, but instead it was rough and exciting and breathless and rushed. Mack and Marty had barely caught their breaths when they tilted their heads to different positions and kissed again. They grabbed at each other's clothes and greedily and eagerly pulled them off.

Fabric flew as boots clunked to the floor and the cover was swept off the bed in Mack's guest quarters. But Mack was still wearing her panties and a shelf bra tank top. Marty was still in boxer shorts and they were not doing a terribly good job of concealing his condition. "Mystic, Mystic," he whispered, hands skimming over her body as he kissed her neck. "There's never been anybody like you." He felt her uneven chest and sighed in her ear. "I, I get that things happened to you. Show me what you want, what you're comfortable with. Hide what you wanna hide. I can wait, trust me on that one, I've been waiting for years."

They kissed again, hungry for each other. She reached down, over his boxers. Hobie, her erstwhile, kinda, sorta, boyfriend, was utterly and completely forgotten in their ardor. "I wanna experience everything," she breathed, "I wanna taste you, I wanna kiss you, hold you, touch you, just, just, just everything. _Straight Arrow_ ," she giggled a little at her ribald joke, "the arrow's really straight right now, eh?"

"Very funny," he breathed, and then his breath caught. "Damn, Mystic, just like that _._ That's perfect _._ You better be careful that things don't happen too fast."

"Then the second time'll be slower," she whispered, "I wanna do everything," she repeated, "and I mean _everything."_

"It's funny," he breathed, "but the last time a girl tried to grab me there, it was more of a turn-off than anything else."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it was that date I mentioned. It's not important."

"You have, uh, of course, right?"

"Yes, of course," he assured her, "I'm not a fifty-seven-year-old virgin or anything like that. Um, I know, or at least I suspect, that you did the deed outside of prison, right?" His hands felt warm on her damaged breasts, through her tank top.

She sat bolt upright. "Oh, man."

"What's the matter, Mystic?"

"Hobie."

"What's Hobie?" He kept his hands on her, but stopped nuzzling her neck.

"He's, uh, I dunno what you'd call him when it comes to me."

"Oh." Reluctantly, Marty took his hands away. "Um, is he special to you?"

"No, uh, not really. He's a good person, but, uh," she sighed as her voice trailed off. "Hurting him is a really bad idea."

He kissed her forehead. "I think you need to resolve things with him."

She looked at him. "It's not just that, _Straight Arrow_. You know this. We can't stay together. You and me, we can never marry."

In response, he put his arms around her. "It doesn't make any sense, y'know? I mean, here we are. We have one hell of a bond, you and me, and we always have. I know what it is – what, what four-letter word it really and _truly_ is. I dunno about you, but I have never, _ever_ had this with anyone else. Not ever, not even _once._ Sex, sure. But, it wasn't, it's not, not this. This, this **_mystical_** thing."

She cupped her hands around his face. "I feel the same," she replied simply. "But you know, and I know, that it can't ever get to where we really want it to go." Tears started rolling down her face, and pretty soon they were streaming down Marty's as well. **"It's not fair! God dammit! It's not fair!"**

"Mystic," he sobbed, "maybe, maybe this is a, it's a part of our heritage, too. Listen; just, just listen to the book, okay? Maybe we can't, we can't have each other," he whispered, and it seemed as if he was not wanting to believe what he was saying, "but, but at least we, we might understand things a little bit, a little bit better. We might at least know who we are _._ I think, I think our family's got, it's got, these, these _burdens._ Maybe this one's _ours."_

In response, she just nodded silently.

Marty was the first one to break contact, as there was a communications chime. "It's, um, I think it's you," he said. He hunted around the floor and located his uniform trousers, shirt, undershirt and boots. He began to put them back on.

Mack dried her eyes as well as she could. "Uh, computer, no visuals."

It was the captain. "Miss MacKenzie?" he called out cheerfully.

"Uh, yes?"

"I should like to invite you and your cousin to supper this evening, in my quarters. Say, at nineteen hundred hours?"

"Sure thing; I guess we'll be there. Thanks for the invitation. MacKenzie out." She turned to Marty, who was fully dressed. "We should clean up, I guess."

"Mystic, about, uh, about all of this," he said softly, "let's, uh, let's not let the ridiculousness of the law get in the way of, of our, um, bond, okay?"

"We never have," she replied, "but maybe that's the problem. Maybe by having this bond, we don't let other people get close to us."

"You may be right," he allowed, "but we can't help feeling what we feel."

"No," she agreed, "I guess we can't."

The dinner turned out to be four for them – the captain, Doctor Crusher, Marty and Dana. The latter two were subdued as they entered the captain's private quarters where a table for four was already set and the captain and the doctor were in clean uniforms. Marty was back in his uniform, not a hair out of place, as if nothing had happened between them.

"I, uh," Mack fumbled, suddenly self-conscious, "I shoulda worn something better than this." She had on a Black Sheep jersey and a pair of dungarees, and was carrying a bag with her, which she put down.

"Oh, that's fine," Beverly assured her. "I often wish I could knock around like that, all the time."

"I see," Picard commented slyly, "so you'd have discipline break down on my ship," he joked. "Tell me, Miss MacKenzie, what are your plans?"

"Oh, please, call me either Dana or Mack," she encouraged. "As for plans, well, I'm thinking we'll, uh," Marty caught her eye for a second, and then he looked away. "I, um, I'm not sure. At some point, though, I figure we'll head over to Daranaea."

"Daranaea?" the captain inquired. "They're, uh, they're a bit like Caitians, yes?" He stood in front of the replicator and commanded, "Four meals, beef stroganoff. Add side salads and merlot for all." He turned to his guests. "I didn't mean to presume, but is this all right?"

"Sure, that sounds good to me," Dana said.

The replicator dutifully produced the requested items. "A toast," the captain proclaimed, "to all manner of success – whatever we may define it as being."

Mack bit her lower lip and drank. Marty didn't look any better. "To, to _**mystical**_ things," she whispered before taking another quick sip.

Marty nodded very slightly and he, too, took another sip. "Uh, what was that?" inquired Picard.

"Uh, nothing, Captain," Mack said.

"Oh, call me Jean-Luc!" he enthused.

Marty glanced over. He had never been granted such an intimacy before. The last time he'd called the captain by his given name, he'd been humiliated by his predecessor, William T. Riker.

"So, Daranaea," repeated the captain, "Are there some special sports that are played there, Dana?"

"There are, yeah. But we'll go whether we have games or not. I've got a gal working for me; she's in the third caste. I'm thinking that she'll get married in a few months, no matter what we're playing."

"Ah, a single adult female Daranaean," the doctor stated, "That's pretty rare."

"How so?" inquired the captain as Marty sat quietly and pushed his food around on his plate.

"They marry 'em young," Mack explained.

"Their leading families," Beverly added, "are none too thrilled with the cousin marriage law."

Marty looked up, eyes a little red, but only Mack noticed. She nodded to him very slightly. "Uh, yeah," she added, "it's really cramping their style. What, uh, what I don't get is why that law exists at all."

"It's about child brides, actually," the captain explained. "We had some societies that wanted to join the Federation, and the men would offer up their young daughters for marriage to their very close kinsmen. This was done in order to keep wealth within families. The Federation argued that, by shutting off one level of kinship, a lot of these young girls would be spared such a fate."

"But why not," Marty asked, speaking for the first time, "just put an age or a virtual age limit or a maturity limit on marriage instead? I mean, this law isn't exactly fair if the bride is, say, in her fifties. It doesn't do anything about child brides who are marrying their third cousins, either."

"Right," Picard agreed, "but you see," he sighed, "it's a compromise, like so many laws are. When it comes to politics, such things rarely benefit anyone."

"I'm not even sure it's so effective," Beverly added. "After all, there are still species like the Daranaeans, who marry their girls off when they're young. Tell me, Dana, how old is your friend?"

"Eighteen, I think." Mack shrugged. "It's something like that. But she _is_ a grownup, at least."

"Well that's something," Picard allowed. "Mister Madden! You haven't touched your food!"

"Jean-Luc," Mack said pointedly, "if we're on a first names basis, uh, well, aren't we? I thought we were doing that."

"You're absolutely correct," he allowed. "Martin," he said, and smiled, "is everything all right?"

"It's, it's fine," Marty took a bite just to get them all off his back.

"Oh, yes," the captain added, "once we're done, I do have something else. But, Beverly, I'm sorry to say that it's not for you."

"Oh?" She looked a bit skeptical.

Mack looked at her. "I don't know anything about it, trust me." She smiled at the doctor. "Maybe I should tell you how Wes is."

"Yes, that would be a good idea," Beverly agreed, digging the captain in the ribs a bit with a finger.

"He's okay. I call him the Boy Wonder half the time. He's smart, loyal and dependable. I think some of the weird mysteries on my boat are frustrating him, though," Dana admitted.

"He enjoys solving puzzles," Beverly explained, "but when it gets too frustrating and it seems impossible, he will sometimes put off working on something or other."

"Oh, so this is normal?" Dana asked.

"Definitely," the doctor confirmed. "Now, tell me about this girl he's been seeing."

"I admit I haven't met her yet," Mack explained, "but she seems like she's someone who Wes likes a great deal."

"Does he talk about her?" inquired the mother.

"It's not so much that; it's more that he's always happier after they talk or they exchange letters. At least, that's what I've been observing about him. I, uh," Mack was getting a bit uncomfortable, "I think maybe his ears are burning and I should stop talking about him."

The captain spotted the bag she'd brought with her. "What did you bring with you, Dana?"

"Oh, yeah!" She got up and deliberately but very lightly brushed her arm against Marty's. She retrieved the bag and sat back down. She opened it. "I took the liberty. Wes himself got me the sizes." She took three articles out. They were three Black Sheep jerseys. Two were blue and the other was light blue. She handed the light blue one to the doctor. "Forgive me, please; I'm lousy at wrapping presents. But this is for you."

"See, Jean-Luc, now I _really_ can knock around like Dana is," Beverly said, holding the jersey up to her body in order to roughly gauge the fit.

Mack handed the remaining two to the men. They then traded them, once they saw the size indicators inside the lower hems. Marty smiled a little, the first time he'd smiled during the entire dinner. "Thanks, Myst – er, Dana," he mumbled.

"Thank you," the captain proclaimed, and then he laughed a little. "I'm not so certain when I'll be able to wear it. However, I shall find the proper time and place, I assure you." He got up and took his and Beverly's plates to the recycler. "I'm sorry; I suppose the doctor and I are used to eating more quickly."

"I'm, uh, I'm not that hungry," Mack said.

"Same here," Marty allowed, as his smile had again vanished.

"Something wrong?" asked Doctor Crusher.

"I'm just tired," Mack said, the lie coming easily and almost being believable.

"I am, too," Marty allowed, "there was a lotta prep work I had to do."

"Understood," Picard stated. He nodded at the doctor. "I'm afraid the three of us need to have a bit of private meeting. But I shall see you later."

"All right," she smiled, "I'll just tell myself that you're planning a surprise party, or something like that." She looked the captain in the eyes a bit before leaving.

Mack looked at the captain. "What is it you need to talk to me about?"

"I take it Martin here tested you, yes?"

"Yeah, and I got the, whatever you call it; I'm less than twenty-one."

"Precisely. Did you give her the book?"

"Yes, I did," Marty confirmed. "But I'm thinking you didn't have the time to crack it open," he said. Of course she hadn't – her time had been taken up by the two of them kissing, and then the whole thing falling apart, but the captain didn't need to know any of that.

"Not yet, no. Why is this all a secret?"

"Dana," said the captain, "we have a, I'm not so sure how to put this. But we have a bit of an issue. It may become complicated."

"What do you need me for?" she asked, and then she realized that her tone was a bit sharp. "Sorry; I don't mean to sound annoyed. I just wanna know."

"We've been tracking a phenomenon, and it has to do with radiation band cycling," Marty explained. "Some of that is chi spectrum, and it's diffusing."

Mack thought for a moment. "Are you talking about the ionization diffuser?"

"Yes," Captain Picard confirmed. "We're uncertain whether the cycling is a result of someone responding to the use of a diffuser."

"Mine isn't the only diffuser out there."

"Understood," Jean-Luc said, "but yours is the only one that we know of that's in the hands of person with an anomalous radiation band. You see, Dana, we think it's another universe – or perhaps more than one – that's causing the cycling. They may be pressing on weak spots. Utilizing the diffuser might be weakening some points."

"Well, I'll tell you something I saw recently," she said, "I walked by it. Only a few people know about it, and I can account for them. But it was in an on position. So someone on my ship was tampering with it. I don't know who. I don't really feel like conducting a witch hunt. I gotta work for a living, Captain, and that means that I need all of my athletes. I can't just be tossing someone out on their ear because of this kinda thing. I don't love that it's happened, but I don't know that there's a lot I can do about it now."

"There is a very real possibility that this is a nascent threat," Jean-Luc explained. "I'm sorry to have to ask you to do this, but you may need to conduct an investigation all the same. We can assist you as we can, from here. You can perhaps let Wesley Crusher in on it, and have him help you."

"Right," Mack said absently. "What about my heritage? Our heritage, that is?" She gestured at Marty a little.

"We're hoping, if they do come through, that people like you can talk to them."


	17. 17-Thirteen

Chapter 17 – Thirteen

That evening, any number of small scenes played out.

On a transport to Earth, Wesley Crusher sat and daydreamed about Lakeisha. On the _Cookie,_ Majira, Xo and Daniya sat together and played cards, laughing and telling jokes.

A large file, finally completely compiled, went to Geordi. A similar one, also ready, went to Harriet Caul. His file was of all of the close area ships' transporter records, with anyone with a radiation band of less than twenty-one centimeters highlighted. Caul received similar information, but it was for Starfleet Academy and Starfleet Headquarters.

As Doctor Crusher walked to her quarters, she stopped suddenly, realizing something. "Huh," she said to no one. She looked at the jersey, which was in her hands. "I think I understand," she murmured.

When she got to her quarters, she dictated. "Personal log, September fifteenth, 2379. Today I met Commander Madden's cousin, Dana MacKenzie. The conversation turned to the cousin marriage law. Both of them expressed their opinions as to that law's problems. I also observed that they both seemed to be a bit distraught. It is my considered opinion that the law ** _directly_ **affects them." She paused to consider something. "Computer, write a letter."

 _Ready_

"To Dana MacKenzie, Coach of the Black Sheep Team.

Dear Dana,

I want to thank you for your gift, and I'll see when I can wear it out and about. I'll be getting leave pretty soon so I'll be sure to take it with me.

I also found our discussion of Federation law to be rather interesting. All I can say is that an unjust or unfair or poorly drafted law should be challenged. I think that's almost our duty as Federation citizens.

Thanks again.

Best wishes,

Beverly Crusher."

She paused for a breath. "Computer, send letter."

=/\=

Marty walked Mack back to her guest quarters, "Uh, I'm sorry," he finally blurted out. "I'm, I'm sorry for everything."

Mack was about to respond when Geordi spotted them in the hallway. He came over. She commented, "My cousin here tells me you and I are related somehow."

"I'm not sure of the particulars," Geordi admitted. "We're also related to Lieutenant Mike Daniels. Have you met him yet?"

"I haven't," Mack admitted. "I guess we've all got a lot more family than we ever thought."

"There's a botanist, too," Geordi pointed out, "She was here a year ago. Her name is Lilienne Hayes."

"Doesn't ring a bell," Mack admitted. She yawned. "Excuse me! I'd better turn in. G'night Cousin Geordi."

He grinned at her. "See ya."

Marty followed Mack into her guest quarters. "He's nice," she commented. "But he's a little nervous around women, I think."

"Maybe," Marty's eyes were far away. "Mystic, I, uh …."

"Don't," she said softly, putting two fingers over his mouth. He kissed them. "Damn," she added, "I, uh, this is so difficult. I suspect the best thing, the easiest thing, would be for me to go, much as it pains me."

He bit his lower lip. "I wish I knew the right thing to do, the magic answer to everything. It's not so clear anymore, Black Sheep." He took a breath. "And, uh, I believe that the next thing that'll happen will be a family reunion."

 _"Reunion?"_

"Yeah, see, they seem to think that people like you, and me, and Geordi and Daniels – hell, even Hayes – they seem to think that if anybody comes through the other side of the radiation band cycling, that we'll be the best people to talk to 'em. You heard 'em."

"Come through? Isn't that impossible?"

"It's not. In fact, it's why you and I are here, and Geordi and Daniels and Hayes, too. We all owe our existences _,_ directly, to a guy named Douglas Jay Hayes Beckett. If he hadn't gotten through, we would never have been born."

"Your middle name."

"Right," he confirmed, "and Old Man Hayes is where we all trace back to, somehow. Geordi doesn't know his own personal details but I'm sure they'll be working on that, and soon. Then I guess they'll decide to use us as diplomats, or will try to, somehow."

"But I'm no diplomat," Mack pointed out, "Neither is what's-her-name, that botanist."

"Hayes," Marty reminded her.

"Right, Hayes. Look," she gazed at him, "I, just, uh, I think I should try to process this, er, somehow." She yawned a little. "'Scuse me."

"I'm tired, too," he admitted, smiling just a bit of a lopsided half-smile at her. "We, uh, we'll figure something out. I don't know what, but we will. I swear that to you, Mystic." His smile was gone, and he was ultra-serious. He thumped his chest once. " _ **I**_ ** _swear_** ** _it._** " He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, and she pulled him into an embrace. "G'night."

"Good night," she whispered in his ear, and then kissed it. "You, uh, I, um, I need to, to sort things out."

"Listen to the book, all right? I think it'll help. It, it definitely helped me," he told her. He looked at her and then departed.

She kicked off her sneakers and dropped her jeans to the floor. "Computer?"

 _Working_

"Have the author read to me a book on my PADD called, _The Human Pioneers of Lafa II."_

As she settled into bed, the voice of author Leonora Digiorno, across the years and the light years, proved soothing.

In his quarters, alone yet again, Marty quietly wept as he, too, had to make some sense of it all.

In his own quarters, Geordi looked at the list of names, of people with a radiation band of anything less than twenty-one centimeters. There was one name from a nearby ship, the _Talos_ – a certain Ensign by the name of _Tamsin Porter._

=/\=

In her office, Harriet Caul stayed up with her own list. "Computer, trace back genealogical records for all persons known to possess a radiation band of less than twenty-one centimeters. Then trace forward all blood siblings. Get me the names of every single person with such a radiation band that is alive today."

 _Acknowledged_

"Estimate the time until the completion of the task."

 _Approximately seven hours_

"Then I'll go to sleep, I suppose. Computer, dim lights."

=/\=

M'Belle and Crita took a short trip to Risa, a small vacation for the two fluffy friends. They arrived late that night, and just stumbled to their room.

Tag Shaw took a pleasure trip to see the Great Plume of Agosoria and, although he didn't plan on it, he spotted Yi'imspi there, so they ended up traveling together. Other team members went on their own small vacations, and Wesley Crusher arrived on Earth bright and early in the morning.

At Starfleet Academy, Lakeisha got up early and was surprised to find a PADD message. "Holy cow," she muttered to herself. "I hope you let me get some coffee first, Wes."

A shower and a quick fix of her hair were all that she had time to do. She stepped out of the door of her dorm room and was swept right back in by a kiss that knocked her socks off.

They didn't emerge until it was just about time for lunch.

=/\=

Harriet Caul checked over the new list. "Computer, is this the entire list?"

 _To a 97% certainty, this is the entire list._

"Very well. Contact everyone who has absolute confidentiality level access."

 _Ready_

"Enclosed is the complete list of all living persons with radiation bands of fewer than twenty-one centimeters. As you can see, there are thirteen people on this list. They are as follows, and are grouped by family unit –

 _1\. Douglas Daniels, born in 2305_

 _2\. Michael Daniels, born in 2341_

 _3\. Lilienne Charlotte Hayes, born in 2309_

 _4\. Ariana LaForge, born in 2337_

 _5\. Edward LaForge, born in 2322_

 _6\. Geordi LaForge, born in 2335_

 _7\. Misty Dana MacKenzie, born in 2329_

 _8\. Martin Douglas Madden, born in 2322_

 _9\. Jay Neil Hayes, born in 2307_

 _10\. Sheilagh Hayes Porter, born in 2331_

 _11\. Tamsin Porter, born in 2354_

 _12\. Tina Reed O'Connor, born in 2291_

 _13._ _Kevin Reed, born in 2344_

"There are, essentially, six families. There is the Daniels branch, the Hayes-Porter branch, the LaForge branch, the Reed-O'Connor branch and the Madden and MacKenzie branches. Four of the above are members of Starfleet – Michael, Geordi, Martin and Tamsin. One, Lilienne, is a well-known botanist. Misty is an ex-convict who owns a sports team. I'm sure we'll find out interesting things about the other seven, in time. In the meantime, this information remains absolutely confidential."


	18. 18-A Temporary Goodbye

Chapter 18 – A Temporary Goodbye

Mack awoke that morning to chimes on her PADD. There were two messages. One was from Marty; the other was from Hobie.

"Oh, man," she muttered. She looked up at the ceiling. "Why, exactly, are ya doin' this to us, God? What the hell did we ever do to you? Wasn't nineteen years in stir enough, anyway?"

She sighed. "I'll save Marty's for last. So, Hobie, what've you got to say?"

 _Dana,_

 _I've got some leave saved up and would love to see you. Please say yes._

 _Kent_

"What oh what am I gonna do about you, Kent? You don't deserve this, me pining after someone else. You're too good a guy for that."

Then she opened Marty's note.

 _Mystic,_

 _You may be right, that you leaving is the best idea, at least for now. I don't want you to go, but it hurts so much for you to stay._

 _MDM Twins Forever and I mean **FOREVER**_

There was an older message that Mack hadn't noticed before, from Beverly. "Huh," she commented, upon reading it. "Challenge the law. But how?"

In his quarters, Marty also received a note from Beverly.

 _Martin,_

 _I know we don't talk much. There really should be a new ship's counselor. I suspect that Guinan and I aren't filling Deanna Troi Riker's shoes too well these days._

 _Seeing you with Dana, and hearing both of you talking about the cousin marriage law has given me some ideas. If I'm wrong or overstepping my bounds, then I apologize. But hear me out, please._

 _I can tell that there's something there. I agree with you that that law is unjust. If you attempt to challenge it, though, that might be damaging to your career. I'll talk to the captain, and see if we can't advocate for you, if you like._

 _Your friend,_

 _Beverly Crusher_

"I don't know," he murmured. "I bet you're right, that openly challenging that law would tank my career. Mystic's totally worth it, but man, what if we lose? Then I'm stuck by myself, and I don't even have this to fall back on." He tapped out a response.

 _I'll think about it. Thanks for the heads up._

 _MD Madden_

=/\=

Picard received his own message from Admiral Nechayev.

 _There are thirteen living descendants of Douglas Jay Hayes Beckett. We do not believe that any more will be found. Due to the confidentiality level on this matter, and because three of the thirteen are serving under your command, you will be considered the commanding officer for all five of the descendants who are currently serving in Starfleet. The two not on the Enterprise are Edward LaForge and Tamsin Porter._

 _All thirteen will be informed of a meeting to be held in six months. We would like for you to host that meeting on your ship._

 _Before that time, we expect all scanning to be completed with reference to the radiation band cycling issue. Therefore, you will leave the Kreetassan System within twenty-four hours and proceed directly to the site of what was once referred to as the Delphic Expanse._

 _Once scans are completed there, you will proceed to the Typhon Expanse and to any and all other locations where this cycling phenomenon has been observed._

 _These orders are to supersede all others for the time being. In six months' time, for your meeting with the thirteen Hayes descendants, the Enterprise will travel to the Lafa System._

 _As always, inform me of any questions you may have regarding these orders._

 _Admiral A. Nechayev_

=/\=

Marty's next PADD message was a note from Picard.

 _I'm afraid your visit with your cousin will have to be cut short. We've been ordered to proceed to the Ceti Alpha System within twenty-four hours. However, we will be planning a meeting, in six months' time. I should like for you, Lieutenant Commander LaForge and Lieutenant Daniels to work together on planning that meeting, once the time draws nearer._

 _Please tell your cousin that Doctor Crusher and I enjoyed meeting her._

Marty tapped the communicator badge on his uniform top. "Madden to MacKenzie."

"Yeah, Marty?" Mack was still a little groggy.

"Sorry if I woke you."

"It's okay. It's just; I didn't sleep too well. I guess I finally got there just now."

"Yeah; I didn't sleep too well, either. Look, I'm sorry to give you the bum's rush, but it looks like we're being called out of here and to another location, to do more scanning. You should have a note – all visitors are gonna have to get off the ship."

There was a pause as Mack checked her PADD messages. "Yeah, I see it now. Can you tell me what's up?"

"It's more radiation band scanning. But I heard from the captain. He said there are reportedly a total of thirteen people, including us, who are Hayes descendants. We'll have a meeting in six months. So we'll see each other then."

"Yeah. Marty, I also got a note from the doctor. She, uh, she said to fight that law, the cousin marriage law."

"She sent me a note, too, Mystic. For me, it's not so easy, though. If I lose a case like that, it could really tank my career. I, I didn't sleep too well last night, either," he admitted, "and believe me, I know you're more than worth it. I'd rather have you than my career any day. I'm just concerned that I'd end up with neither. Know what I'm saying, Mystic?"

"Yeah, I do. But Marty?"

"Yeah?"

"Would it really hurt your career if I fought the law by myself?"

"I, let me talk to Picard and see what's what. I know they want this radiation band cycling issue resolved."

"So if you fix it," she ventured, "maybe they'll wanna reward you, by looking the other way."

"I dunno, maybe. I just don't know."

"I won't push it. But I, uh, I heard from my fellow. I'm kinda scared to act, too, in a lotta ways. God knows I don't wanna hurt him; he doesn't deserve that. You're right; if we lose this case, I don't get you. I'm sure he wouldn't wait around for me, not for something like this."

"I'm not so sure anyone would, if they knew you were in love with another man." There was a pause, and Mack could hear Marty swallowing nervously. "Uh, are you?"

"You know how I feel about you," she answered.

"Yeah." The corners of his mouth turned up, ever so slightly. "I'll see you off, okay?"

"Okay."

"Just, uh, wait there, and I'll come get you. Uh, Madden out."

Mack packed her duffle as Marty sprinted over there.

He arrived to find her holding out a Black Sheep jersey. "I, uh, I never got a chance to give this second one to you," she said.

"Thanks. I, uh," his hands were shaking as he took hers. "I know it's big words."

"Well, it's big feelings."

"Yeah. So go, and, um, work things out with your fellow. See him if you like. I can't exactly tell you not to. I, I can wait. I know what we could have, Mystic, and what we already do." He kissed her hands.

"I know, too, and I swear you won't have to wait forever."

"I've done my time, I think. I went into deep space in order to get away. Then you were gone. Mystic," he said softly, "whatever the law says, and whatever it means and whatever it does, you are," he tapped his chest once, still holding both her hand and the hem of the jersey, "right here. You _ **live**_ here."

"You live in me, too. We both have things we've gotta resolve, and think about. I, uh, I've been on the outside of the law. It's far from fun or secure. I won't ask you to do that."

"Let's see what happens. Maybe it won't have to come to that."

She stepped closer, and they kissed. "My God," she commented, reluctantly breaking away first. "This is harder than any Enolian torture."

"We'll get through this," he assured her. There was a communications chime, and he answered it. "Madden here."

"Captain says," it was Geordi, "that all visitors have to go. I take it that means Dana, too."

"Uh, yeah," Marty confirmed.

"Geordi," Mack interjected brightly, "come over to my guest quarters, and you can both walk me out, okay?"

"Sure; be right there, LaForge out."

"Before you say anything," she said, "I really should say goodbye to him. He _is_ family, after all. I think his being there will keep us from maybe messing things up, and kissing in public."

"Well, long as things are still private," he murmured, and they kissed again, not breaking apart until the door chimed.

Geordi found them both with flushed faces. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yes," she confirmed as they walked to the transporter room. "I wanna meet your family, Cuz."

"Absolutely," Geordi agreed. "We'll figure something out. My sister likes having pen pals, and so do I."

"Then it's settled," Mack smiled a little as they walked.

In the transporter room, she hugged both of them, and kissed each man on the cheek. "Damn, I didn't get to meet Daniels," she said.

"Next time, then," Geordi said.

"Yeah. See you in six months, Myst – uh, Dana," Marty turned back to the transporter technician. "Energize."

Mack's eyes misted over as she dematerialized.

Once Mack was back on the _Cookie,_ she engaged her wrist communicator unit. "Daniya, you there?"

"Yes. I had thought you'd still be on the _Enterprise."_

"Change of plans," Mack told her. "Who's there with you?"

"Majira and Xo. Everyone else has gone somewhere or other."

"We're on a timetable now. I wanna get sports on Daranaea lined up. We'll practice and then head over there, as a part of Crita's wedding. I want that all done before six months have passed."

"Why? What's in six months?" asked Daniya.

"I'm going back to the _Enterprise;_ I've got some family business that I'll need to attend to. I also want to swing by Andoria, so we'll send out a general note to all the athletes. Anybody coming back from that direction can just meet us there."

"You're going to meet that guy," Daniya opined.

"Yes, I am. I've gotta settle some stuff." Mack thought for a second. "Can you or Xo work communications?"

Xo's voice, a little faint in the background, answered, "I can run communications."

"I'll need for you to contact our team lawyer, Cyril Morgan Yarin. I've got some matters I'd like to discuss with him."

"Right away," Xo confirmed.

"All right, let's do this," Mack said, "leave's just about over, folks."

=/\=

Marty made his way to the Bridge. He was even less enthused than before. As the door swished open, the captain looked up. "Ah, Mister Madden, I should like to speak with you and Mister Daniels in my Ready Room."

Daniels, too, looked up. "Sir?"

"Kell Perrim, hold command, please," Picard requested.

"Yes, sir."

Once the door had safely closed behind them, Picard turned to Daniels. "We're going to the Ceti Alpha System, and then to the Typhon Expanse and then the Lafa System in six months."

"All right," replied Daniels cautiously.

"It's for a very specific purpose," the captain continued. "The remainder of what I am going to tell you is at the absolute level of confidentiality."

"I understand, sir," Daniels stated decisively.

"You and Mister Madden here are related. You're also related to Lieutenant Commander LaForge."

"I am?"

"You are," Marty confirmed, "Plus my second cousin, Dana MacKenzie, and a botanist who visited the _Enterprise-D_ a few years ago – Lilienne Hayes. She's also a relative."

"Uh, all right."

"Starfleet is interested in your parentage, Daniels, because all of you – there are thirteen in all currently – you are all transuniversal hybrids."

"What the –?"

"There's more," Marty added.

"We have been monitoring increased radiation band cycling activity in various areas. That includes our planned destinations. We suspect that at least one other universe, if not several, is attempting to make contact. Their intentions are, as yet, unknown."

"If they do, we might be called upon." Marty explained.

"To do what?" asked Mike Daniels.

"Dunno," Marty admitted.

"But it could be rather important indeed," stated Picard, "you may find that we need for you to save us all."


	19. 19-A Message and a Declaration

Chapter 19 – A Message and a Declaration

With only a few of them on board the _Cookie,_ Mack began to consider a plan to ensnare whoever had tampered with the ionization diffuser. While Xo was working out, she sat with Daniya and Majira in the ship's mess.

"I saw it," she opened with, eliminating any preamble.

"What did you see?" inquired the green-skinned woman.

"Someone was messing with the ionization diffuser."

"Oh. That _**is**_ serious," Majira said.

"I aim to find out who it was," Mack stated, "because I think, whoever did it, no matter how great they are otherwise, we just can't keep them. I can't have people sticking their noses and their fingers where they don't belong."

"Right," Daniya agreed, "but they would have to be caught in the act, I believe."

"Posting a guard would do no good," Majira threw out there, "as it would draw too much attention to the area. We'd be suspecting people who had never taken an interest in that area of the ship before."

"Right, and the last thing we wish to do is increase the number of suspects," Daniya agreed. "We need to make that number smaller, instead."

"Exactly," Mack confirmed. "Actually, the thing we really should do is install a hidden camera."

"The best people for that job would be Crita and Wesley," Majira pointed out.

"She's on, what is it, Risa? The Boy Wonder's on Earth," Mack stated.

"He has been incommunicado," Daniya pointed out. "I am sure he is having a marvelous time with his beloved. We should not be interrupting their good time, and definitely should not be making him come back early."

"What about Crita?" asked Mack.

"She is not alone," Majira explained. "She and M'Belle are touring together."

"All right, so we'll sit tight until they return. In the meantime, let's get our people back. We'll watch that work station," Mack cautioned.

"Right," Majira confirmed, "I will say that I do not suspect Xo. He's certainly had ample opportunity, what with only a few of us here, yet he's done nothing, so far as I can tell."

"But we're not continuously watching him," Daniya added, "so maybe he's doing something but is covering his tracks well enough."

"Let's not speculate," Mack cautioned. "Let's only go by whatever concrete evidence we've got. Right now, that's not much." She sent a message to all of her employees.

 _I'm sorry to cut leave short, but we need to move on. I want to head back to Andoria first, so if you need to come back from that direction, just meet the rest of us there. Then we'll start practicing Daranaean games. I figure that will be our next gig. See you all soon._

Upon seeing the note, Wes turned to Lakeisha. "It says here that Mack wants us all to return. I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's all right." She kissed him. They were lying in her bed, with little on over them, aside from a blanket. "I do have to study, y'know."

"Yeah, I guess you do. Uh, Lakeisha?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"Remember how I told you that I don't believe in holding anything back?"

"You definitely haven't been holding anything back for the past few days, Wes." They kissed.

"One more thing."

"Oh?"

"I love you, Lakeisha."

=/\=

The athletes received Mack's message on their PADDs, as they toured or dined or worked out or just rested, wherever they were. Slowly, they began to return to the Kreetassan System, and the _Cookie,_ or they would just go straight to Andoria.

One, a Section 31 operative, broke away from another and contacted Harriet Caul directly.

 _While on leave, I tested any number of Federation citizens. I have not found anyone else with an anomalous radiation band who you have not accounted for._

 _My research has otherwise been fruitful. I may have located the supplier of the parts that Szish used, in order to build an ionization diffuser. That person is a Borothan._

Caul sent a return message.

 _Your priority now is to determine what other technology is on Dana MacKenzie's ship. Take images, scans, and notes. I want to know as much as possible. There will be a meeting in about six months, on Lafa II. We will meet there and exchange information._

=/\=

On the _Enterprise-E,_ Marty, Geordi and B-4 went over the Kreetassan data. This time, they were joined by Michael Daniels, who commented, "Strange that we're related, eh?"

"Definitely," Geordi said, "I mean it's not as if we look too much alike."

"It's all branches of a pretty tangled tree," said Marty, "I'd love to see a diagram."

"Perhaps one can be constructed for your meeting in six months' time," suggested B-4.

"That would be good," Mike agreed. He turned his attention to the radiation band cycling data. "So, what am I looking at here?"

"We're seeing the numbers fluctuate," Geordi explained, "and here," he brought up two readings on his PADD's screen, "When we compare the Denab System and the Kreetassan System readings, the findings very nearly match."

"Same source?" asked Mike.

"That's our guess, too," Marty confirmed.

"Got it," Mike said. "The big guns, they think our family will have some sort of a, a connection with them?"

"I'm sure they don't really know," Geordi stated, "but they're hopeful."

"I can't shake the feeling that they're just clutching at straws. Do they really think this Mirror Universe is going to come crashing through?" Mike asked.

"Well, they've been here before," Marty clarified, "the mirror, that is. But it required some special conditions. They'd need a wormhole, or a simultaneous ion storm in both universes, or they'd need to be Calafan, at a location in their system called Point Abic."

"Or have a spore hub drive," Geordi added.

"That, too."

"However," B-4 stated, "assuming a working ionization diffuser could reliably cycle to the correct radiation band, and could hold that position with any degree of stability, then the denizens of the mirror could readily come here."

"It could be at any time they wanted, and from anywhere," Marty declared, "It would be like building a portable wormhole."

"If their motives weren't the best," Mike said, "well, that's gotta be no good."

"It would be perfect for an invasion," Geordi said. "They could conduct a sneak attack, from anywhere. Dana's ionization diffuser – if we could upgrade it and calibrate it just right, we might just be able to deflect this. We could turn the tables on them."

"Dana?" asked Mike.

"She's my second cousin. So she's your cousin, too, I guess. But it'll never happen," Marty said definitively. "It's a violation of the Treaty of Algeron to even work on such a thing. The Romulans would consider even research to be a hostile act, and I can't really say as I'd blame them."

"More's the pity," Mike stated. "We could definitely use a counter measure of our own."

"I hope Dana's got a clue of how to work it, and that Wesley figures it out, too, before it's too late," Geordi said.

"You and me both," Marty commiserated.

=/\=

"I, oh, Wes," Lakeisha said, kissing him. "I, oh God, no one's ever said that to me before." She looked at him. "I, I love you, too."

They kissed again, but there was a communications chime. They broke apart, and Lakeisha said, "That sounds like an urgent chime."

Wesley checked his PADD. "It's me." It was a confidential note from Mack.

 _I'm sorry to bother you, Boy Wonder, but I need you back, pronto. I have a very specific – and very secret – job for you to do. Keep this one close to the vest. See you soon._

"It's more urgent than I'd thought," he said. "I've gotta go today." He got up and began hunting around for clean clothes.

"When will I see you?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, "but Mack's looking to go to places like Daranaea."

"What is that, Beta Quadrant?"

"It's not too far from it. I'll write, and I will call, I swear. You won't get rid of me that easily."

She smiled at him. "Good thing I've still got school. I'll get you to a transport."

=/\=

For Tag Shaw, a trip to see the Great Plume of Agosoria was supposed to have been a spiritual pilgrimage. Insread, he had unexpectedly met Yi'imspi. He and the Calafan beauty had hooked up. "So," he said to her, as they lay in bed together, "do you wanna continue the fun when we get back?"

"Maybe _._ "

"I heard that Calafans bond easily, and you bond strongly."

"Strongly, yes, but not so easily as all that. Besides, why are you in such a rush?"

"I like you very much," Tag admitted.

"Well, I am fond of you, too."

" _Fond?_ That seems so, I dunno, it's like it's mid-level."

Naked, she got up, and began to pack her few things. "Isn't that better than no level?"

"I suppose." He watched her for a while, and then got up and started to pack his own small bag.

"Besides," Yi'imspi said, "I thought I saw you hitting on M'Belle. I believe I have also seen you hitting on Cilla and maybe also Adeel."

"They don't hold a candle to you."

"You just like me because I'm a cover girl on Tellar."

"I like a few other things, too," he smiled at her. "You're fun, and you're feisty."

"Feisty? I don't know about that."

"It's a compliment."

"Oh, well, then, thank you."

=/\=

On Risa, M'Belle and Crita got in one last visit to a seaside restaurant before leaving. Cilla, Dathan, Effeston, Adeel, Grosk and others made their final goodbyes or took their last looks before heading back, either directly to the _Cookie_ or to Andoria.

=/\=

Harriet Caul wrote to Alynna Nechayev.

 _A final set of scans will be taken of Dana MacKenzie's ionization diffuser. There is a possibility that Szish's parts supplier has been found. We may be able to get a contractor to build us our own unit._

=/\=

As the _Enterprise-E_ entered what had once been known as the Delphic Expanse, the radiation band cycling coming from the Ceti Alpha System began to increase in frequency, magnitude and seeming randomness.

The same was true of the other locations where the phenomenon had been observed – the Denab and Kreetassan Systems.

For the first time ever, the cycling patterns had achieved perfect synchronization.


	20. 20-Synchronicity

Chapter 20 – Synchronicity

For a certain operative, the synchronization was exactly what was wanted and needed, and expected. That operative worked for Section 31, and reported directly to Harriet Caul. That operative also worked for someone trying to overthrow the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance, the highest unit of government in the Mirror Universe.

This was not known to Harriet Caul, or to Alynna Necvhayev, or really to most people on this side of the pond. But on the other side, in the Mirror Universe, this person's status was known to the highest of the high, or at least those who aspired to be there. These people were neither Klingon, nor were they Cardassian. They were human. Well, Terran, to be precise.

And, much like Douglas Jay Hayes Beckett had founded a dynasty in 2158 with the birth of his son by his wife, Lili O'Day – that was Jeremiah Logan Beckett, known as Joss – so, too, had a dynasty been founded on the other side of things. But this one was deliberately founded, and calculated to be as perfect as possible, and it was in 2156. It was with the birth of Jun Daniels Sato, a temporally paradoxical child.

Jun's mother had been the notorious Empress Hoshi Sato. His father had been a time traveler from the thirty-first and thirty-second centuries, a mostly human man named Richard M. Daniels.

Jun had never had children, but he had four half-brothers and one half-sister. The girl, Takara Masterson Sato, married Charles Tucker IV, the son of Charles Tucker III and Elizabeth Cutler. Takara's grandson, Charles Tucker VI, succeeded Jun and his half-brother, Kira MacKenzie Sato, and reigned as the Emperor Charles the First.

There were six emperors named Charles. The last one was ousted from power in 2370 when the Terran Empire fell. But in 2373, he began to, in earnest, work on regaining power. This coincided with him meeting the operative.

Charles VI knew that, if he could deliver a **major** conquest – or at least a major technological breakthrough – that he could, potentially, return to power. He had hired this operative, and had authorized experimenting with radiation band cycling. He was depending on one well-trained operative. If that operative succeeded, the rewards would be great.

If not, then the operative's head would be delivered, on a platter, to him. Such were the bloodthirsty ways of the Mirror Universe. There was a great deal of incentive for that operative to succeed.

=/\=

Wesley arrived back on the Cookie a few days later, along with M'Belle and Crita. He went straight to Mack's quarters so that they could speak in private. "You said it was urgent."

"Oh, yeah, definitely. Somebody tampered with the ionization diffuser."

"Damn, that's no good. Whaddaya wanna do?"

"I need to talk to Crita first, but I'll need for the two of you to start putting hidden cameras around the more interesting tech around here. Of course this is all secret, known only to the inner circle."

"Got it. There's a ton in Engineering. For now at least, that area's pretty deserted until the others get back."

"Get Daniya to help you, yeah, that'll work. I'll work with Crita," Mack decided. "You're right; you've got a lot more area to cover and it's a better time to take care of things there, but the diffuser is the biggest priority."

"Got it." He turned to go.

"Oh, and Wes?"

"Hmm?"

"How was Earth?"

"Incredible."

"Oh? You saw your friend?"

"I did," he confirmed, smiling.

"Now I'm _really_ sorry I got you back here early. You're in love, Boy Wonder."

"Ha, yeah, I am. But it's okay; she has to go to classes anyway."

He left and she hit communications. "Crita, I need to see you."

"Right away."

Once Mack had explained the situation, Crita agreed to assist. Xo and M'Belle were instructed to get in a workout. Once those two athletes were in the holodeck, Mack and Crita began installing a camera at the ionization diffuser's work station.

"Do you think maybe it was just an accident, that someone touched something by mistake?" Crita asked as they worked.

"For anything else, I might be persuaded, but definitely not for this. To pull down the lever, you've gotta turn the joystick. It's a lot of deliberate movements, plus this thing is way too interesting and important."

"Maybe you should offer the opportunity for the offender to come clean while we remain in the Kreetassan System," Crita suggested.

"Huh, actually, that's a good idea."

By the time M'Belle and Xo were done, so were Mack and Crita. Mack released Crita to go to Engineering and help get those cameras installed even more quickly. Mack's own task was to keep Xo and M'Belle occupied even longer.

"So tell me," Mack asked, as the two athletes sat with her in the mess, "How was Risa?"

"Beautiful," M'Belle reported, "it's very warm and comfortable, and the people are very … open."

"Do you think they would deign to speak with a Jem'Hadar such as myself?"

"Well," M'Belle stated, "I saw plenty of Gorn, and Xindi, and Cardassians, and they were all welcomed warmly."

"Did you see any Vorta?" he asked.

"I did not, but of course I wasn't looking everywhere." M'Belle got up.

"Actually, before you go," Dana thought quickly, "I was wondering. I think you know Crita better than anyone here."

"I suppose I do," the Caitian allowed.

"Well, I think we should get her a wedding gift of some sort, although I've gotta say, I'm tapped for ideas."

"Oh, huh, let's think about this." M'Belle sat back down.

"Maybe something for her new home," Xo suggested.

"Well, she's a third wife. Or, she will be," Mack said, "so I'm thinking that the Prime Wife might have already done the decorating. I mean, I don't know that for sure, but the last thing I wanna do is get her off on the wrong foot."

"Right," M'Belle stated. "Just money seems so impersonal. Maybe we should ask the entire team, or at least most of them."

"That's a good idea," Xo praised, "we could solicit suggestions, and maybe vote on them as well."

There was a chime on Mack's PADD. She read it quickly; it was from Crita.

 _We are finished with installing cameras at the diffuser station and around most of Engineering._

"Okay," Mack said, "let's try that."

Most of the athletes returned a few days later and, as had been suggested, they held a meeting in the holodeck, in order to determine the best gift for the Daranaean. A few stragglers met remotely, as they had traveled to Andoria.

"We've been talking for quite a while," Cilla observed. "I am exhausted and I think everyone else here is, as well." Behind her, the wall chronometer showed the time – _0042 hours_ – and the date – _September 25th of 2379._

"Yeah, let's adjourn," Yi'imspi agreed. "I think we should sleep on our ideas anyway. I take it no one objects."

No one did. They were about ready to file out when Mack entered. They grumbled a bit, so she quickly said, "This will be fast. It won't end up really applying to most of you, I don't think. But I want to make one thing clear to all of you." Despite their fatigue, the athletes heeded her. "Spending this much time choosing a gift for Crita – that's sweet and it's admirable. It makes this team feel like a family."

Mack paused, gathering up her thoughts. "But then there's this other thing. See," she said, "I have a piece of equipment that was tampered with. There are a lot of interesting things on this ship, I'll grant you. But they belong to me, and none of you have permission to touch them. Now, right now I'm in fact-finding mode. But I am watching. Whenever I find out who did this and, heh, I'm sorry if this seems overly harsh, but this matters a great deal to me. So whenever I find that person, they **_will_** be expelled from this team."

There were some murmurs of disbelief.

"I don't love this, I don't mind telling you. But I will do this. Mark my words; I will. Good night."

=/\=

On the _Enterprise-E_ _,_ even though it was the middle of the night, Marty woke up with a nagging feeling. "Something seems off," he muttered to himself. He walked into the little bathroom in his quarters and splashed water on his face. "I hope you're okay, Mystic. I just, I got a funny feeling."

=/\=

As the athletes filed out of the holodeck, many of them picked up messages on their PADDs. The operative had a message, too, from Harriet Caul, and it was marked as urgent.

 _I need filmed demonstrations of the technology being used on the Cookie, as soon as possible._

That person headed to Engineering.

In Engineering, Wesley was barely awake, writing a message to Lakeisha.

 _We're going to Daranaea soon. The Communications Officer is getting married. Do you know how to run communications? I bet I could put in a good word for you._

He stopped what he was doing when he heard a noise.

Dana, too, headed to Engineering, for the sole purpose of corralling Wes and sending him to his bunk. He looked up when he heard her. "You gotta get some sleep, Boy Wonder. No more love letters tonight."

"Eh, yeah, I guess I should."

"You look happy," she said, "Tired, but happy."

"I am very happy." He smiled, but then that quickly turned to a frown as he noticed a change on a monitor.

"What's wrong?"

"There's tech at the part of the wishbone where the nacelle ends join together."

"And?"

"And some of it is just monitors. But one part of it –it fires some sort of a shot. I'm not really sure of what its purpose is, but …."

"Is it a weapon?"

"I have no idea," he admitted, "and there's nothing on the camera – at least, not yet. But this monitor here says it just turned on."

"Who knew about the cameras?" she asked, as they started to walk toward the area in question.

"Just the inner circle, so far as I know. But if somebody wanted to tamper with the tech, they might guess at the presence of surveillance equipment. I bet a pro would."

"Maybe," Mack admitted, breaking into a jog as her alarm level increased.

They arrived just in time to witness the operative engage that particular piece of technology and run it.

It was a modified pulse cannon, and it was an imperfect article, imperfectly designed for its intended purpose. It would have been hazardous even under the best of circumstances, and these circumstances were far from ideal. It was designed to fire a stream of dark matter at an angle as against regular matter. Kept in a constant stream, the so-called pulse shot would open up a temporary portal between this universe and the Mirror.

The operative knew a bit about this. The technology was not completely foreign to that person. The Empress Hoshi Sato herself had tried to develop such technology, back in the day.

If the pulses were varied, that would result in radiation band cycling, such as was going on, on the other side of the pond. But this pulse was intended to be non-variable. Szish, the inventor, had not known about band cycling.

The shot left the _Cookie_ and went straight to the closest incidence of radiation band cycling – within the Kreetassan System, which was where the Cookie still was. The shot did not have far to travel at all.

The pulse then spread, on both sides of the pond, to all of the other places where there was measurable radiation band cycling – the Denab System and the Ceti Alpha System, where the _Enterprise-E_ already was.

Mack and Wes could scarcely mentally register that any of this was happening, as it all went down in a split second.

Everything blurred and faded, and then it was suddenly thrown right back and into sharp relief. Mack and the others had no idea that they'd been moved, or that anything was any different. To them, this was how things had always been.

The Cookie was forgotten – it was never known by any of them, as Szish was suddenly still alive and its owner. The Black Sheep team had never existed. Harriet Caul, Alynna Nechayev and the others, too, had no idea that anything had been altered. Neither the operative, nor none of them, knew that the act of firing an imperfect pulse shot into a cycling radiation band had altered time all around them.

The only place where the temporal change registered was far, far into the future.

 **THE END**


End file.
